Star Trek Maximillian: Beyond the Final Frontier
by Chris C Stephenson
Summary: An admiral with a secret past. A captain trying to prove herself. An android with no memory. All will face their worst fears, with the future of our universe at stake. It's been called "A good read" and "Excellent", now it's yours to enjoy!
1. Occurrence

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter One: Occurrence

If you were to lay out a flat map of the Alpha Quadrant, formatting a three-dimensional space into a two-dimensional area, then at the leftmost edge of space you would find the Archer Observatory. A smaller version of the standard Federation starbase, yet still maintaining the familiar mushroom-shaped design, Archer housed an eclectic mix of cultures, from standard humans on up to the stranger life forms, such as the Gorn and the Anticans. Those housed there were both of species belonging to the long-beleaguered Federation, and also those that were, if not on friendly terms, then at least not currently at war. The reason for the observatory's existence had trumped the usual need for the various species need for dominance, and so there had been surprisingly few disagreements, and peace among the many.

The observatory itself was designed and functioned as a makeshift listening post, but at times, especially over the past several standard years, it had held a number of interesting experiments, many overseen by high-ranking official of the Federation itself. Although the official designation of the observatory was that it was a neutral ground for all races to better the galaxy, it was well understood that the Federation was the grand overseers. Lately the rush for technology had slowed, and the new center for research had been established in sector 001, where the Pathfinder project was well underway.

At this moment, the research had been set aside to allow for celebration. It was the beginning of a new year aboard the observatory. Although the many races that inhabited Archer had different dates and times that they celebrated, they had come together to agree on one time, lest everyday become a celebration. While that may have been good for morale, it certainly wouldn't have provided a quiet place to get any work done. And while many of his officers were celebrating this new year, the highest ranking Admiral and current overseer of the projects currently taking place on the observatory was taking a stiff drink, thinking about how much he would rather be on Earth, contributing something to the cause, instead of just 'overseeing' projects he either knew nothing about or didn't have the clearance to know anything about.

Admiral Dennis Winslow sat the glass back down on the table as he leaned back on the wooden chair, staring out the window at the sun in the sky and tried to get his mind off of the things that always seemed to accompany him when he thought. But try as he might he could not lose himself in this particular fantasy. Even though there appeared to be nothing out of the ordinary, his sitting and drinking on a balcony overlooking a city skyline, his brain reminded him that nothing here was real, not this drink, despite the taste and even the familiar sting, not the feel of the chair beneath him, and certainly not the cool ocean air that was blowing against his skin. His imagination betrayed the illusion, and he thought he could still see the green holodeck lines surrounding him, constantly reminding him that despite appearances, he was still just in a box.

He sighed heavily, but didn't make a move to turn the computer program off. He still felt he needed this. _You just never knew how much you'd miss sky when you stay away this long; _he had remarked to one of his subordinates, who had promptly suggested the holodeck. Admiral Winslow had long disliked the mixture of holograms and programs, thinking that it represented the end of human evolution. And indeed his thoughts continued after the short hour he had spent inside. Maybe it was just because, despite the sting of the alcohol, there was no lasting effects, no buzz to distract him, and because of how far from home they all truly were, there was no access to anything but the synthesized alcohol that most crews of starships had learned to loathe. Sighing again, he looked up. What he wouldn't give to not have to enter a room and pretend to see a blue tint to his surroundings, a sun or two, or a cloud going about its business, flowing by in the endlessness of atmosphere. He counted the days until his tour at Archer would end, and he could return to Earth, to his office in Starfleet Headquarters. And for a minute when he closed his eyes this time, he was finally able to lose himself in the sound of the ocean and the feel of the air against his face, the sweet sweet ocean smell in his nostrils.

At least his job wasn't hard, he thought. Once you got past all the regulations and by-the-book nonsense that could make an operation such as this difficult, the Archer experiments, or 'Project Sunburst' as the main program had come to be called, were a piece of cake. Sure, they had had their share of close calls, many of which had vaporized large chunks of the station itself, but that was one of the unfortunate side effects of working with untested and sometimes only theorized forms of energy. He spent most of his time studying the history of the projects, but usually only became frustrated with how little real information there was. Everything was classified to the highest levels of Starfleet, and the only real information now suggested that the experiments were just an offshoot of the Pathfinder project; dealing with unstable energies with potentially dangerous consequences should something go wrong. This was the official word why the Observatory was placed so far away from most populated sectors: fewer questions to answer if something did go wrong.

Winslow knew what it meant when it was classified so high that even he, a two-star Admiral, couldn't even begin to see what was left unsaid. It meant Lyon. He cursed the five-star Admiral in his head, not caring how many stars he wore on his uniform. Lyon was wrong to send him or any other Admiral out here when there did not seem to be any reason for it, at least that he could see himself. Any one-star or even a highly regarded Captain could run this place. If Lyon wanted this place to be overseen so badly, then let him do it himself, but as for Admiral Dennis Carter Winslow, he had more important things to do with his Starfleet Career!

As he fixated on his anger, an old wound in his mind reopening, a voice sounded out of the sky. Not wise and all-knowing, but instead merely the voice of the untested, in this case a lowly lieutenant that was manning the communications center. "Admiral?"

"Go ahead." Winslow said, gruffly.

"Sir, there is a situation down here…"

Winslow let out a heavy angst-filled sigh and then stood. "I'm on my way." He shook his head as he ordered the computer to end program. After all the time he had been here, now over a year, most of his young crew were still nervous when reporting to him, seemingly always requiring him to look over every little thing. Oh well, he thought, at least it would make the time pass a little faster. He began to whistle a tune, "I left my heart in San Francisco" as he walked out of the room.

"The War Room", as it was referred to throughout the observatory, was in fact anything but. Consisting of a large circular area with the requisite viewscreen and stations, it really didn't resemble anything more elaborate than a standard starship bridge, and was nothing compared to the larger, better known stations throughout the Federation. The main thinking behind its makeup was it was the people that made Archer Observatory what it was, not the construction of it. This line of thinking had ended up doing nothing but fueling jokes throughout the observatory, none of them repeated in the presence of its commander, whoever it happened to be at the time. Even the stations themselves consisted of nothing more than the standard sensors, communications, and so on. It was from the rear area, from the lift, that Admiral Winslow entered, walking down the steps directly to his relatively comfortable chair, in the center of the room. Tapping the armrest a few times to reveal an impressive array of information, he turned to the Commander at the sensors station. "What is this about?"

"Visual." All thoughts of the celebration of the New Year were forgotten by the commander, who had been pulled away from his own unique celebration, an Andorian rite that he didn't feel like explaining to his 'pink-skin' leader. As the commander spoke, the viewscreen erupted into the sight of space. Nothing out of the ordinary, just the usual blackness, save for some specks of white light expanding from far-off stars and planets, and a dense cloud of gas hovering just to the right of the screen, it's reddish hue extending its light onto the observatory. The commander spoke again. "About fifteen minutes ago we registered a gravimetric swell, but when we took a look, nothing was there. We thought the sensors were malfunctioning, and ordered regular checks of the area, and just now, we saw this." He turned to the viewscreen. "Magnify quadrant b-53."

The view suddenly zoomed into an unimpressive part of the blackness, and revealed an unexpected sight. A swirling mass of blue energy, at the center lying…nothing. A blank, black space, somehow darker than all of the space around it, and giving the impression of somehow being emptier than all the great emptiness that surrounded the observatory and the universe itself. Admiral Winslow frowned. "What…is that?"

"Unknown. We've scanned it, thrown a probe at it, even sent out a hail in its direction. All we know is that it's completely two-dimensional; with no discernable mass or density…I can't even tell you what kind of energy it is. The computers are completely baffled."

Winslow rubbed his chin. "Threat analysis."

"Thus far there's been no sign of anything threatening coming from it. The probe will arrive in a few moments; we should know more once it gets there."

The admiral sat back. "Put it on screen, Commander." He thought for a moment, and then tapped his communicator, hating to interrupt their celebration for something that likely would turn out to be nothing, but better safe than sorry. "Command personnel, report to the war room."

As he awaited the arrival of his most trusted officers and advisors, Winslow studied the screen, more specifically the probe that was rushing toward its target. It was essentially a small cone. Unimpressive in looks but fairly remarkable in its ability to gather information on levels and scales far beyond even the best starships in the Federation had. As with everything else here, it was still considered a work in progress and the final designs hadn't been confirmed yet. Therefore, a cone it remained. Function, not form. _"Just like here."_ Winslow thought.

As the first group began to enter the room, the probe was nearing the energy swirl. It slowed, and then stopped; beginning active scans on the energy. "What's the distance between us and the 'occurrence'?" Admiral Winslow asked, knowing he could have just checked his readouts but thought best if everyone had access to this information.

"10,000 yards, sir." The Captain at a station behind him reported.

"That's awfully close…"

"Yes, sir." The overeager Captain agreed, as he tapped a panel, moving the probe closer to the energy, hoping for better readings than what he was receiving. He looked over his readings, and glanced back to the Admiral. "Preliminary scans report…nothing, sir. As far as the probe's concerned, it's as if there isn't anything there."

Winslow frowned. "But there _is_ something there…push it forward. I want to see if it's some sort of cloud or gas…"

"Aye, sir." Barker pushed a few buttons, and the probe moved again, silent and swift through the darkness. As it neared the black nothingness in the center, which had a diameter enough to swallow a _Galaxy_-Class starship, small blue electric sparks began to extend from the surrounding swirl of blue energy. As they watched, the captain tried to slow the movement of the probe, which had not stopped or even slowed, but he wasn't having any luck. "Sir," He said nervously, "The probe is being drawn into the energy!"

"Call it back, Captain."

"No effect…It's like it's in some kind of tractor beam!" The Bajoran was beginning to sweat.

They watched in awe as the probe impacted with the dark center of the energy, and begun to be absorbed into it. Within thirty seconds, the probe had entered into it as easily as it had moved through space, and there was now no sign that it had ever existed at all.

"Admiral!" The captain's eyes widened. "Probe readings lost! It's just…gone…"

"Calm down, captain, it can't be 'just gone', check your…" He was interrupted by the commander.

"Sir…the energy…"

The swirl had begun to speed up, undulating and waving as only a two-dimensional flat object in three-dimensional space could do, and the darkness in the center begun to flash yellow and white.

Winslow moved towards the edge of his seat. "What…?"

Suddenly, an incredibly bright flash of light filled the viewscreen, temporarily blinding the crew and forcing them to cover their eyes. After the light had dissipated, Winslow hurriedly blinked his eyes along with the rest of his crew to look back at the screen, showing now bits and pieces of machinery floating in space. The probe that had entered the hole.

Winslow stood. "No…"

As they continued to watch, the swirl began to move faster, around and around, blue streaks and sparks flowing through it and arcing out in all directions. The middle was now flashing more colors, more intensely and faster and faster as it twisted and turned in on itself. Then there was another bright flash, and as quickly as it had appeared it had vanished, leaving only a trace of dust…and an object.

The object was a somewhat crystallized shape, with a tall spire reaching up and down, coming to a sharp point. It was roughly the size of a small vessel, around an _Akira-_class, and not very long at all. It reflected the space around it, completely opaque…and it was moving directly towards the station.

Any other leader of any other station or even ship would have ordered battle stations, or some sort of defensive strategy. Not here. Not Admiral Dennis Winslow. This was why Lyon had placed him here, after all. Not because he was particularly brave or skillful. No, but because of his grace under pressure, and when it came down to it if there was a job to do there was never any question or delay. Without missing a beat he sat heavily in his chair, tapping panels even as he gave orders. "Comm., send an emergency distress signal to Starfleet, containing the information I am sending to your station now. No…not Starfleet, but to Admiral Robert Lyon specifically. Encrypt it at the highest levels." He looked down to his armrest, saw the words "Starburst point", and approved the message.

The Comm. Officer frowned. "I don't understand…"

"Just do it!" He snapped, losing decorum for a brief moment before looking back at the screen, watching as the crystal smoothly approached. It slowed, and stopped, facing them, as though running a silent scan. As though anticipating the next question, the commander shook his head. "I can't make anything out. It's not showing up on our sensors at all."

Winslow nodded, and turned back to his comm. Officer. As he did so, one shard of the crystal form began to glow eerily. Winslow sighed one last time, as he asked, "Has the message been sent?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good…good." He sat back, his fingers folded, and he began to hum the song he had been singing earlier. He closed his eyes, losing himself in memory.

The light from the shard began to extend out towards the observatory, and as it hit the outer hull, it suddenly began to bubble and melt away. The heat extended through the hole immediately, and the only solace that could be taken was that those on the station did not realize their death, only that it happened. They were disintegrated by the light immediately as it hit the station, it having flooded the inside instantaneously. The now superheated observatory began to break up, pieces flying and spinning off into the endless reaches, to float forever.

Mere seconds later, as what was left of the once proud Archer Observatory floated off into nothingness, the crystal form began to move, floating and building up speed. But there was no hurry, no rush. Oh no, it would get there exactly when it needed to.


	2. Preparations

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Two: Preparations

Five-Star Admiral Robert S. Lyon looked out over the Promenade of the deep space station commonly known as "Deep Space 7", his eyes firm, masking tiredness and a certain sadness that this was no longer specifically _his_ crew that he was gazing down on. Indeed, the crew of the _Sovereign-_Class _U.S.S. Maximillian_ was now three Captains removed from being under his command. Instead, he now held his rank as the highest ranking Admiral in all of Starfleet, and merely an advisor on the day-to-day affairs on board the starship. He held this position with modesty and a bit of humility, but few others had ever reached his rank, because few others had ever done the things that Lyon had done.

It had only been a few years since Lyon moved from an eventful career, captaining not one but two versions of the _Maximillian_ in several missions and campaigns, including several skirmishes with the Cardiassians during the height of the conflicts with that race. The _Excelsior_ class had been lost during one battle with them, and after his ascension into the ranks of the Admiralty, the new _Nebula_-class _Maximillian _suffered a similar fate, albeit under a different command: Admiral Turock T'Kill, one of Lyon's two best friends in the world. Unlike some Captains that had lost vessels, Lyon bore no grudge against the Cardiassians. In the end, war was just business, and in some strange way he admired their abilities.

All this was far from his mind right now of course. At this point in time Lyon looked over the crew of the _Maximillian_, celebrating a mix between the final end to the long and costly Dominion war, and their own long-in-coming shore leave. The _Maximillian_ in fact was soon to start heading to Earth, for the past few years had taken their toll on the _Sovereign_-class vessel, and she was to be refit and returned to her former glory as the most beautiful ship in Starfleet…at least according to those who served aboard her.

The _Maximillian's_ first mission had taken two years, and was actually cut in half of its customary five-year period. Fresh from construction following the destruction of its _Nebula_ class namesake, the ship had been ordered into the Menkare Expanse. Not to seek out and find new lifeforms, but to chase down and uncover a plot to destroy the Federation and Starfleet by malevolent creatures that could take control of high-ranking officials, and use them to subvert the entire fleet, making the entire quadrant ripe for an invasion. However after years of searching, the _Maximillian_ had found absolutely nothing to suggest that there was anything out of the ordinary in the expanse at all, and actually had found strong evidence supporting the idea that it was only a splinter group of these aliens that had invaded the Alpha Quadrant in the first place. In the end it didn't matter, as the Dominion war was in full swing and the strongest ship in the fleet was needed to fight an actual war, not one that could happen someday. And to add insult to injury, after the journey back, the war had ended, so the result was one of the flagships of the fleet had been sidelined for the entirety of the largest and longest war since the days of the Klingons.

Lyon knew these officers needed rest, and shore leave, if only for a few weeks. Despite the lack of action in the expanse, each of these officers was expected to be at full alert readiness the entire time, and although it was their jobs, he knew that it would wear them down. And for what he feared was coming, he needed them at peak condition. But there was no time. The _Maximillian_ was needed. The strange object that had broken through Starburst point had accelerated, and while before it would not have reached Federation space for decades, now it would get there in a matter of days. Before there was time for research and study, to best decide what to do with it, but now there was no time, and it was up to this crew, and the crews of as many ships as he could call, to intercept and stop this potential destructive force.

It was no time for a new Captain to be put into power.

When the _Maximillian_ had entered the Menkare Expanse, it had done so under Captain Tamak, a Vulcan with a knack of engineering, stemming from his family line. He had recently been granted command from his mentor, the newly-appointed Admiral Turock T'Kill, and began the search. However, a year into his command, the Vulcan became erratic, suffering from a rare advanced form of _Pon Farr_, the Vulcan mating 'sickness' that effected the race once every seven years. A series of incredible events transpired, including Admiral Lyon being transported back in time 400 years, and while Tamak was able to both make a full recovery and return Lyon to his proper time period, the damage had been done. Tamak was removed from power, and in his place Captain Teela A'Mor served as interim. But despite her friendship with the command staff of the "_Mighty Max", _She knew that the Captaincy was not for her, and as the ship headed back out of the Expanse, the position changed hands yet again, this time to the most senior member of the staff still on the ship: S'Quid Tai Septaric. Klingon.

Septaric's ridged forehead and fierce expression fell into Lyon's gaze, and he narrowed his eyebrows. He felt at this time of crisis experience was needed, not an untested Captain and Command Staff. This was certainly not a time to try new things, and Septaric was to be the first Klingon Captain of a Starfleet vessel.

Lyon had nothing against Klingons, having served with them most of his life, but it was still strange to see someone such as her in this type of powerful position. He did not vote against it; however, as the _Maximillian_ had a long history of choosing their own captains, for better or for worse, and he felt that traditions had to be maintained, lest morale be damaged.

Septaric for her part was a rarity among Klingons, being fairly mild-mannered and more concerned with how things worked versus devotion to honor in all its forms. Lyon knew in any other instance that she could do the job. But for what she could very well be up against shortly, she would be in well over her head. He looked up at the ceiling and sighed. Sometimes you had to work with what you had.

Not a rarity among Klingons, however, was the male she was discussing things with. Captain Septaric's appointed first officer, Commander Kragnar Septaric. Though as untested as the Captain, Kragnar had worked with her on a vast majority of occasions, both in Starfleet and in the Klingon Empire. Even more surprising than their heritage was the fact that they were brother and sister. While on Klingon ships it was not unusual to find a family group commanding a vessel, in Starfleet it was almost unheard of. And while it unnerved most Admirals to have such a powerful ship in the hands of two of the few Klingons in Starfleet, Lyon trusted them…he just wished it was under different circumstances that they took their first command.

Also in the circle of discussion was Lieutenant Commander Kelvok, a Vulcan jack-of-all-trades who served as second officer. One of the longest running members of the _Maximillian_, it was long thought that he would eventually become Captain, but if he showed any disdain at not being elected he did not show it, instead continuing to live as Vulcans had for centuries.

Lyon appraised them all, as another officer caught his eye, off to the right. He focused on his adjutant, Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade.

No-one knew where the name came from, as it was the only thing that Starblade remembered when he was found. And reactivated. He was of a race unknown to the Federation, and one of the two mechanical beings in Starfleet. He was an android.

The only other android in Starfleet, also a Lieutenant Commander and Operations Chief, was Data of the starship _Enterprise_. Although impressive in his own right, Data was simply outclassed by the potential of Starblade. For all intents and purposes, Starblade might as well have been human. He had working emotions from day one, whereas Data had to go to great lengths to acquire his, and where Data had some difficulty keeping his works under control, Starblade had not malfunctioned once during his entire stay in the Federation. He had been found simply floating in space, and restored to life by the experts on board the science vessel _Asimov_. He couldn't remember a single thing about his life prior to being reawakened, only what the pieces of his ship looked like, floating around him as though some great accident had occurred, leaving him the only survivor.

His functionality was very close to human abilities, with similar strength and speed, though endurance was stepped up a lot. His central nervous system and 'brain' was located in his lower back along the spinal column. Lyon had never met anything like him, and neither had anyone else in the Federation. He withstood the batteries of tests, and after it was decided that he was a living being and should not be reverse engineered, he followed the suggestion of Admiral Lyon and officially joined Starfleet, going through the academy and moving through an array of ships, specializing in transporter technologies. From the _Kittyhawk_ to the _Asgard_, in the end Starblade had only one destination in mind. So on their way to the Menkare expanse, the _Maximillian_ had welcomed aboard their newest, rarest member, and the rest was history.

Lyon's eyes followed him as he moved to talk to the _Maximillian_'s chief Engineer, Lieutenant Amy Armstrong Thomas, who was still a little bit green at her new position. But she was a quick learner, and was more than capable of handling the position, and through the urging of several others she had taken the job, and performed as well as anyone could have.

Admiral Lyon glanced around the room at the rest of the leaders of his former ship. His medical chief, Dr. Alexander. His intelligence officer Tamak. Many others, of which he would never forget their names. Korjac. Jonathon Chubb. Jaydin. Shaylen…Their names popped into his head as he looked them over.

Starfleet's finest. But would they be enough? He asked himself this question again as he watched the remaining two-thirds of the _Maximillian's_ Admiralty board approach him. Rear Admiral Blobbin pudged in front, the Federation's lone member of a species called 'Errsedorians', who lived across the galaxy. His name was part of an even longer one, as Errsedorians use their first name as their chosen name, the second of their parent, the third the grand-parent, and so on. His real name began with Equezumre Vevom Klaosdkif, and goes on for a hundred more. He was called Blobbin by his associates mainly due to his appearance, that of a silver blob of mercury and his ability to change both shape and form.

Behind Blobbin was one more rarity: Rear Admiral Turock T'Kill, who was the only known Romulan/Human hybrid known. After a tumultuous childhood on Romulus due to his heritage, he had escaped to the Federation, finding sanctuary, and eventually friends and a lifelong career with Starfleet and the _Maximillian_ itself. And for this he had Lyon to thank. But right now no thanks were forthcoming. Explanations were needed.

"You're sure this is the right thing to do, Rob." Turock began.

"Yeah, we all like to watch a good explosion…but I would've thought the Max would be a little too new for you to go blowing it up again." Blobbin added, his sarcastic jovial side coming out as it did so often.

Lyon sighed to himself, and shook his head. "We're out of options. I wish there was another way too, but with so many ships out of commission thanks to the Dominion…this is what we have to work with." He started walking around the promenade, and Blobbin and T'Kill quickly followed. "We're the closest ship to the vessel, and we're continually running out of time. I think we can take care of it with the proper precautions. The _Sovereign_-class isn't the most advanced starship in the fleet for nothing, you know."

"All the technology in the universe is no replacement for an experienced crew." T'Kill stated, stiffly.

"I know, I know…" Lyon paused for effect. "That's why I will be accompanying the _Maximillian_ on this mission."

T'Kill and Blobbin stopped, and Lyon continued quickly, answering their questions and statements before they even started. "This is not a suicide mission; I am simply going along to make sure everything runs as smoothly as it can."

T'Kill shook his head. "But…But…There's no _logic_ in this!"

"Careful Turock, your Vulcan is showing." Blobbin nudged T'Kill.

Flustered, T'Kill continued. "If this goes as wrong as you keep saying it will, you'll simply add your death to the rest of the ship! It's…an unnecessary sacrifice."

"Your opinion has been noted. Fortunately, you'll be there to prove me wrong."

"Wha…" T'Kill rubbed his forehead. "Oh no…"

Lyon continued. "Because of the dire circumstances, the crew requires our support, and like it or not, she is still our ship. I'd get some rest if I were you." Lyon briskly continued to pace, leaving Blobbin and T'Kill behind.

Blobbin pudged towards T'Kill. "You know…I'm not sure how, but this is all your fault."

"MY fault? Listen, you glob of putty…" The argument trailed off as they left Lyon's sight, leaving him to check his padd for the time, and then walk to the center balcony overlooking the main meeting area where the senior staff of the _Maximillian_ was gathered, for it was just about time to deliver the sad news to the crew; that instead of shore leave beginning as scheduled, their lives would once again be placed in danger.

He looked down upon the crowd as he stepped into the center, and cleared his throat. As the balcony was set to recognize his voice, the small throat clearing amplified throughout the room and quickly the crowd below him stopped their conversation, and looked up. The loud cluttering morphed into a soft muttering, as every eye was on Admiral Lyon.

Lyon began to speak, his voice booming throughout the bay. "I'm sorry to have to announce this now, in this way, but there is no other choice. Shore leave has been cancelled."

He paused to allow the crowd to murmur, avoiding talking over them and fighting for control, and then continued. "I remind you that the following is classified." He tapped a panel on the balcony, and an external shot of Archer Observatory appeared, along with the anomaly and the probe heading towards it. He marveled at the extreme distances that Starfleet probes could reach, then spoke again. "On Stardate 53000.03, an object from…unknown origins entered through what we believe to be a small, self-made wormhole. The object then, without provocation or warning, destroyed the Archer Observatory with one strike." As he spoke, the events that had happened in the early morning of the celebrated New Year took place before the eyes of everyone in the room, and they watched horrified and grew even more silent as they thought about the sheer power of the vessel. "Since that time, the object has begun to accelerate on a course that will take it very near to Sector 001.

"Over the course of the past month, we have researched the object, but have found no weaknesses, and have not been able to scan it with any Federation systems. It is not responding to anything we attempt. And it has begun to move faster, making it days away from populated space.

"Therefore, it is imperative that a strike force be launched, to intercept and communicate with the object, or disable it. The _Maximillian_ is the closest ship in range at this point to meet up with Joint Task Force Alpha, which is gathering at the entrance to Sector 9654. Later more ships can and will be called to assist if we require them. The purpose is to uncover the object's motives and reasons for destroying the observatory, and its purpose here in our space.

"I am well aware of what this ship has been through, that it is overdue for refit, that you are all ready for shore leave, but there are no other options. The _U.S.S. Maximillian_ must meet this latest challenge, and I know in my heart you will be ready to face whatever awaits us. I will be accompanying the task force to this end, as well as Admirals Blobbin and T'Kill. Further details will be made to you and the remainder of the crew shortly. Godspeed." Lyon stopped, took a breath, and prepared himself for the barrage of questions he would be receiving…questions that he could not give answers for. Already he saw Captain Septaric heading his way. He drew himself up, mentally reminding himself of his position, and walked away from the makeshift podium as the murmurs grew louder…and he allowed himself to think about everything…


	3. Departure

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Three: Departure

In this case, the term 'space dock' was a misnomer, because where the _Maximillian _had been docked was actually a good ten minute voyage by shuttle from the ship to the space station. This was due in part to the number of ships still in repair from the recent Dominion War, and also because the brief refits being done to the 'Mighty Max', the ones that could be done at this location at least, did not require heavy maintenance and thus could be done outside. So the shuttle housing Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade had left the station and still had several minutes remaining to it before it arrived at its destination.

Starblade gazed out the window, passing the time before his arrival. He realized now, even though it was relatively a short trip, that he should have brought a book, or even a small gaming padd of some sort. He sighed, and glanced back through his one bag he had brought along with him on the one week of 'shore leave' that had been granted. Not that there was really any kind of shore to leave to. Remaining on the station wasn't exactly his idea of a vacation, and after visiting the holodeck a couple of times, he ended up spending more time just wandering aimlessly down the corridors, lost in thought.

He pulled out the item that had led him to this bout of heavy thinking, the padd that was provided to him detailing the specifics of the upcoming mission, and the strange vessel that had started it all. He read very quickly yet again the details, exactly what they were going out there to do. Investigate, try and reason, but destroy if necessary. Of course, the hows were a little sketchy on how they were supposed to destroy something that the best minds in Starfleet were as of yet unable to detect. He rightly guessed that their probable rendezvous point with the object was based on conjecture. If the vessel changed its course, then they would have no idea where it was, likely until it was too late. Starblade hated these sorts of missions. Much easier to blow something up when you knew where it was and what its capabilities were.

But there was something else to this too. Something knowing at the back of his mind like a cancer. He tabbed through the screens until he reached the pictures of the vessel in action, its movement, it's destructive firepower. Neither were of much interest to the chief of operations at this moment, instead he concentrated on the looks of it. The tall crystal spire that extended straight up and down, and jutted outward in the middle, to form a perfect symmetrical shape. The opaque shine of the exterior, and the fact that it's size would make it difficult for a full crew to man it. Some had thought it might be Tholian, since their crystalline bodies tended to inspire their ship designs. Starblade didn't think so. Tholian ships were crystal shaped just as this was, but there was something so unique and exact about this construction that it just seemed not of this universe, not of anything known anyway, and yet so familiar…Starblade just couldn't get his mind around it.

At this point there was no time to continue thinking about it, as a voice came over the communications system. "We will be arriving in two minutes." Starblade nodded to the voice, even as it had already cut off, and then gazed out the window at the sight of the ship coming into view.

There she was. The _Sovereign-_Class _U.S.S. Maximillian. _As far as most of the crew's concern, the most beautiful ship in the fleet, and the best. On the exterior it appeared no different than any other _Sovereign_, including the namesake itself, or the _Enterprise_. But on the interior was where the difference lay. The "Mighty Max" was widely recognized as the most independent and diverse ship in the fleet. With one of the lowest human-to-nonhuman ratios, the ship ran with little direction from Starfleet, other than basic mission direction. This was mainly because of Admiral Lyon naming this formerly little known ship as his flagship, along with Admiral T'Kill. (Admiral Blobbin also held the _Maximillian_ in high esteem, but flew his flag aboard a smaller research vessel, the _U.S.S. Julius II._) Between the two of them, they held enough weight both in Starfleet and the Federation council to let the _Maximillian_ go their own way.

The _Sovereign_-Class was still the top of the line and newest models of ship, though rumors persisted of a _Luna-_Class entering the late stages of design. With its sleek saucer sections and nacelles, the ship was built for heavy battle. Starblade squinted, noticing a strange glow to the ship that wasn't there before, and made a mental note to ask Lyon about it later. For now, he just enjoyed the view.

The shuttle moved over the front of the saucer section, where the numbers _NCC-74997 _shone largely, and moved towards the docking station. Starblade stood, rearranging his bag and slinging it over his shoulder, moving towards the door and standing loosely. He had dressed in his uniform, although it wasn't required. It just felt wrong not to be in full dress after so long away from the ship though.

The docking ring moved closer, and with a 'thump' and a slight shaking of the cabin, the shuttle and the _Maximillian_ were now one. There was the customary few seconds for the pressure to normalize, and then the doors opened, revealing a nervous young ensign.

"Welcome aboard, Commander Starblade!"

The android shook his head. This one was a 'trip', as Rob would say. "Calm down, Merlomo. The brass isn't watching." He entered the _Maximillian_ proper, relishing the first step and the first breath of reprocessed air, and looked at the fresh-out-of-the-academy security officer. "Anything I should know about going on?"

"Admirals Blobbin and Lyon are discussing new shield technologies in engineering, Captain Septaric is in her ready room, Commander Kragnar is…"

"In other words, no." Starblade smiled. "Works for me, I'm gonna get my junk together in my quarters. Maybe catch a nap. If anyone asks, I'm late. They should expect it from me by now, anyway." He cut off the Ensign before he could interrupt. "Don't worry, I'll be shipshape and ready to rock by launch." With a quick salute, he walked quickly away, before the ensign could continue the conversation, shortening his nap time by another few minutes. Android or not, Starblade did like his sleep.

For whatever reason, Ensign Merlomo had left out the fact that Admiral T'Kill was on the bridge, going over the schematics one last time to make absolutely sure nothing had changed that he didn't know about, but he was correct on all other accounts. Admirals Blobbin and Lyon were indeed going over new shield technologies in engineering, along with Kelvok and Tamak. The top half of Blobbin, where he had formed a mouth (Along with vocal cords) and eyes, was getting redder by the second as he once again tried to explain his reasoning to the others.

"Fine, and I'll tell you again Rob, we need to hold off on launch another week or so to get this stuff worked out!"

Lyon shook his head. "And I'll tell you again, there's no time for that. We've already taken too much time as it is putting down the first layers of your technology down, and there's no guarantee it's even going to work if we get into a fight!"

Blobbin rolled his eyes. "Rob, the shielding worked for my entire race for years and years, and 'fleet's been going over the plans since I started pushing for it. If you're going to keep pushing for a fight then you know we're going to need everything!"

Tamak and Kelvok stayed silent, the two Vulcans knowing when to involve themselves, and in this case, when not to. Blobbin had been pushing for the installation of his race's technology on all Federation starships almost since the day he had joined Starfleet. While Errsedorian ships were not known for speed, they were built for battle, and their weaponry and shielding were, as far as Blobbin was concerned anyway, as good as or better than the standard load out and at the very least would provide an extra layer of protection against enemy firepower, to say nothing of giving them a tactical advantage.

Lyon had no problems with the installation of Errsedorian technologies on the _Maximillian_. The first phases had already been applied to both the torpedoes and hull. But to spend more time installing something that would delay them further and that there was no guarantee that they would even use would be foolish in his eyes, and there wasn't a chance in hell he would put this off any longer, no matter how much he wanted to.

"The discussion is over, Blobbin…why don't you go bug Turock about it or something, we've still got a lot of work to do." To finish the conversation, as Lyon often did, he walked away from it completely, leaving engineering at a brisk pace. Blobbin drew himself up and yelled after him.

"THIS ISN'T OVER ADMIRAL! I KNOW WHERE YOU LIVE! I'M GOING TO WRITE A LETTER!" After a minute where Blobbin's entire mercury form had turned bright red, he cooled back to standard silver, and resumed his customary grin, turning to Tamak and Kelvok, who despite their lack of showing emotion were feeling quite like fifth wheels at this point. "So, guys, what's the chances of doing a little in-flight maintenance?" He waggled hastily formed eyebrows at the Vulcans, who just gave each other a glance.

Commander Kragnar, in fact, had been on his way to the ready room when Starblade had come on board, and had now arrived. His large, imposing Klingon frame did nothing to impress Captain Septaric, who secretly marveled that even after all the time they had known each other he still tried to intimidate her, when he had never successfully done so in the past, the only person she knew that failed to react. Instead she ignored him, until a minute passed, and almost right on time he began.

"So we're just going to let them come in and take control?"

Without looking up, Septaric answered. "Him, not them. T'Kill and Blobbin aren't happy with the situation either. And he isn't taking command. Not that there's anything we could do if he really wanted it."

"S'Quid…"

"I'm sitting in my chair, use the rank." Septaric grinned with sharp Klingon teeth.

"_Captain_ Septaric…" Kragnar grimaced as he used the word.

"Something wrong, Commander?"

"I do not like these games you play with the Federation ranks. Were this our Klingon Vessel…"

"Well, it's not, and it's never going to be. We chose this life, Kragnar. A bold new era for the Empire. Federation and Klingon working together. It's the future that's been coming for eighty years now."

Kragnar growled. "_You_ chose this life. I swore a blood oath to our father to stand by your side…"

"An oath that I've released you from a hundred times. And yet you followed me all the way to the Federation, all the way through their schools and studies, and all the way to being my first mate, as the humans say. So yes, it's definitely a 'we have chosen'. We choose to open the door so that honor isn't the only thing that controls us anymore. We make history as the first Klingons to ever command a starship in the Federation fleets. And so if a superior officer says jump then both you and I will say how high, sir! And _this_ superior officer is telling you to drop it and get back to proving that someday you'll be running one of these over-produced wastes of metal yourself, do you understand me, _Commander_?"

Kragnar was silent, and then stood. "As long as I don't have to like it."

"No-one said you did."

"Fine." Kragnar nodded to his sister, who nodded back, and then he moved out of the ready room. He grunted at Admiral T'Kill, going over relay plans with the chief of communications, Lieutenant Cynthia Ayers. Then he walked towards the lift, and disappeared behind the doors. T'Kill turned to Ayers.

"What's his problem?"

Admiral Blobbin's complaints aside, the _Maximillian_ was as ready to launch as ever. It was only time and last minute preparations that separated the space-worthy vessel from traveling. The preparations went by without further incident; it was just the time that moved slowly. Agonizingly slowly. Tensions and the usual pre-launch butterflies that swam through everyone's stomachs were high, but at last, as the day moved to night and moved back to day again, they were ready. The chiefs of the respective departments were sitting in their assigned seats, the Captain was in her chair, and the Admirals stood along the back rail, overseeing.

Lyon's eyes were directly on the captain's chair. He wasn't staring at Captain Septaric, but instead at the chair itself. He was remembering his days in the chair, the seemingly endless days and nights, mostly boredom, sometimes action and dire threats, and more than once destruction and death. Looking back at all of it, he wouldn't have missed it for anything.

T'Kill's eyes and mind were running through similar ideas. The past scenarios, a similar tale of adventure and loss, and in the end, the same result. Sitting behind a desk and pushing paperwork and trying to influence the future of Starfleet and the Federation instead of just following the blind orders of a bunch of behind-the-scenes pencil pushers who mostly got into power without ever commanding a starship. As a whole, he'd still rather be sitting in the chair.

Blobbin, contrary as he always was, much preferred being in a position which afforded him the most power as possible with as little work as possible. He was a former captain of the _Maximillian_ like the rest of them, but for the shortest amount of time. Not for any fault or shortcomings of himself, but because he had been sent off on a secret mission for the Federation, which led to Admiral T'Kill being placed in command in the first place. He remembered not enjoying the short time he was there though.

Together, they and every non-essential member of the crew that was also there to witness the historic launch had all eyes on the center seat as Captain Septaric gave the order for the docking clamps to unhook. There was a short *thunk* that came from the hooks sliding off, and then the ship was only connected by a light gravity field, generated by the station itself. She then stood, pausing for a moment, and for the first time gave the order for the ship to begin moving.

"Commander Starblade…Take us out."

As the android began to tap the buttons, the _Maximillian _began to move. Very slowly, and with perfect aim and practiced timing, it moved past the first extended pylon. And then the second, and more. Outside assemblers and workers waved at the departing ship even though no-one inside could see as it moved past them. A few of them saluted, showing respect for the mighty ship.

As graceful as a swan on the open sea, the Mighty Max rushed past the final pylon and officially exited space dock. Captain Septaric gave the order, and a thank you message was sent to the crew of Deep Space 7, thanking them for allowing them storage and protection. At that point, the mission was on. She nodded to Commander Starblade, who tapped in the new ordered coordinates, coordinates that would lead the _Maximillian _to its next destination: a rendezvous with several other ships that would make up the hastily organized task force. Lyon watched the viewscreen, watched the stars move, and wished once again that it was he who would control the destiny of this ship, of this crew, of this mission.

The _U.S.S._ _Maximillian_ swung around, pointing itself in the proper direction, and the engines spun up, the nacelles working their magic, and shone brightly. A beat passed, and then at seemingly impossible speeds, the ship was officially underway on its next great adventure.


	4. Calm

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Four: Calm

Despite the fact that a starship must be manned at all hours since there is no real sense of time in space, considering every planet and race has their own standard time they go by, the _Maximillian_ did have a night shift. While the ship was still fully staffed and operated, the senior-most command staff tended to not work this particular series of hours. The ship itself had now been at Warp 7, the usual speed when there wasn't a dire emergency, for twelve hours now, and it would be another full day and a half before the quickly-put-together task force was assembled in full. There were still late negotiations ongoing with other races, and at this point it was a little unclear who exactly would be attending this meeting in the first place. Admiral T'Kill remarked that there was a small chance they'd be the only one there. Blobbin just shrugged, with quickly formed shoulders, saying that it wouldn't be the first time he showed up to a party that nobody else came to. T'Kill had to choke down a snide remark at that.

Because of the shift, the only senior command staff member on duty was in fact the lowest ranking of them all: Lieutenant Amy Armstrong Thomas, working diligently in engineering. It was not the first time she worked late; in fact she had made quite a habit of it. She felt she had a lot to prove, and also preferred the peace and quiet of the night, as the 'night-shift' tended to do things a bit quieter, despite there being just as many of them as the other shifts. At this particular point in time, she was going over a fresh padd, handed to her by Commander Tamak on his way to his brief rest period. The padd listed strange specifications that were to be configured by the Engineering staff. Nothing too out of the ordinary, but it didn't make any sense. It appeared they were supporting some kind of massive power fluctuation, and had to offset the power somewhere else, as these specifications seemed, at least on screen, prone to overloading.

The last thing she needed was an overload situation. Strangely enough, overloads were the cause of most of the destruction and chaos on a ship even if it never saw an open battle. There were massive amounts of energy flowing through a starship at any given time, and if given free range suddenly without dampeners it could easily burn someone's face right off, even killing them just as easy as a phaser set to 'kill'. It was customarily unavoidable in tense situations for an overload to occur, but on the _Maximillian_, one hadn't happened in years, not since before even Tamak was chief engineer, and that had been before they had entered the Menkare Expanse. While Thomas knew there was a battle coming up, at least from the rumblings around the bay, she hoped this was one streak she could keep going. But these specifications, supposedly coming direct from one of the Admirals themselves, certainly weren't going to help matters at all. She sighed, as she wasn't one to question orders, and instead began formulating ways to lessen the chance of something going wrong as much as possible. Plans formed in her mind, were disregarded and were reformed as fast as she could think. She called over the second-in-command on duty and received his opinions, and reformulated bypass strategies and new configurations.

While she thought, she stared at the warp core, its unending cycle of lights moving up and down calming her restless brain. She would think it through. Her knack for solutions had made her chief, after all, when most thought she was too young for the position. Of course, the fact that she was the latest member in a famous line of Armstrongs, stretching back to the man that walked on the moon, certainly hadn't hurt her upward momentum as she went through Starfleet Academy, but it was the results that had got her where she was, she hoped, and she was ready at a moment's notice to prove this was the case. This was just another opportunity to do that.

Lieutenant Thomas moved away from the core to an engineering console and began rerouting power, just in the systems dedicated to this particular console at first, and then satisfied that nothing would go wrong, or the console would suddenly refuse to work, she expanded the programming. She smiled as she did so, losing herself in her work. This would be easier than she thought, though she didn't think she'd be able to get it done by the end of her shift. Fortunately, it had been made quite clear that this was a side project, and nothing that needed to be trumpeted around. Thomas knew about that too. One of the best examples of a person bound for great things in Starfleet was someone who knew when to keep their mouth shut.

All over the ship, most of the senior command was sleeping, but in the sole android's quarters, there was a sort-of action classical mix playing in the background as Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade and Admiral Robert Lyon engaged their formidable wits in that most deadly game of chance and skill. Their eyes met, staring each other down. A bead of perspiration on Starblade's forehead.

"Roll the dice, commander." Lyon stated plainly, not giving away any hint of the plans working behind his eyes.

"Yes, sir." Starblade said just as plainly, shaking his hand a few times, and then launching two square white dotted objects onto the flat board. "Five."

Lyon nodded as the small silver object moved towards its destination: a box marked with a pointing man in a blue outfit. "Go directly to jail. Go directly to jail…"

Starblade sighed, barely holding in a curse. "Yeah, heard it before." The small car was placed in the lower left corner.

Lyon stretched suddenly, aware of the late hour. "Why do we always end up playing this for so long? It takes too long with only us."

"We played chess when it was your turn, remember? My turn, my game. Besides, if you want a short game, chess isn't exactly it."

"It is when I play it." Lyon winked, and the two shared a laugh. Lyon rolled, and the game continued. Starblade thought, not for the first time tonight, that he should bring up the ship, the journey, anything that they were currently involved with. After thinking it through he decided to leave it be for now. They would have plenty of time in the next several days to deal with the invader, and he knew from experience that it was important to take the quiet moments when they came, for the next life-or-death situation may only be seconds away. 'Seize the day', and all that jazz. Starblade's turn came up, and he rolled, and lost himself in the game.

The night continued, but on every starship throughout the fleet, there is always at least one crewmember that was always on duty, no matter what the roster and schedule said. The Captain. Captain Septaric was not in her room or the ready room, nor the bridge, however. Instead she stood deep in the bowels of the _Maximillian_, in the center of Stellar Cartography. Its owner, Lieutenant Meowran, was asleep in her bed, as was all but a skeleton crew working behind the scenes. It did not matter to Septaric, who knew her away around the stations needed to display what she wanted. Right now it was focusing on the object, its past movements and its trajectory. As had been said and detailed in every classified report she had received, the object was heading straight for sector 001, and perhaps points past if they were lucky enough. But hoping for the best was not the Federation's strong suit, nor should it be considering the several incursions that had taken place over the past years.

Septaric was amazed at the straight path that the ship was taking, as it didn't seem to intersect any planets or other heavenly bodies. Instead it appeared to have already chosen a course, and nothing would dissuade it from its path. It was simple…and Septaric suddenly wondered if the craft was aiming to make things even simpler for itself than anyone had guessed thus far. She raised her head and spoke.

"Computer, is there any solar winds or phoneme in the current path of the vessel? Or in a surrounding area that would affect the path?"

"Checking." The computer's firmly feminine voice sounded out, and Septaric was left alone with her thoughts. After a beat, the computer spoke again. "There is no stellar happening within the predicted path of the unknown vessel. However, there are solar winds emanating from the sun in sector 425."

"Recompute the path taking that into account."

"Processing." Septaric could feel the anxiousness building up inside her. She could tell she was about to unlock something important, though she could never guess what the results would be.

"Results displaying now." The computer sounded out, and the object's path was displayed as a bright yellow line beginning at the approximate current location and moved as before into Earth space, crossing directly past Earth's moon, but getting no closer to the third planet. As it moved past, it continued until it reached what could only be its destination. Septaric's breath caught.

It was Sol. Earth's sun and the center point of Sector 001. She let her breath out and growled, her Klingon heritage not hidden deep enough. Now that she knew where they were going, a new question had arisen.

Why?


	5. Contact

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Five: Contact

It should come as no surprise that the next day and a half passed without significant incident, as most space voyages consist of nothing more risky than extreme boredom. Most however are not aware of this, since the news networks and the publicized information that comes out of Starfleet and the Federation consists of the high points and the action-filled triumphs of the fleet. This both keeps the ratings up and serves as an easy way to get recruits for the academy, which is as a result usually full to bursting. Most recruits are surprised to learn firsthand the tedium and repetition that is life in Starfleet. On the flipside, most long-time members of ships, particularly those that served during wartime entanglements, welcome the lack of danger, and often wish for nothing more than a stress and risk-free time.

So it was that for Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade, still relatively green in service despite having served on the _Kittyhawk_ for years, anxiously awaited the next bout of danger, and Admiral Robert Lyon felt exactly the opposite, dreading the upcoming exchange as they both stood at their stations on the bridge of the _Maximillian_; Starblade in his chair at the operations station, and Lyon standing towards the rear of the room, his hands holding the bar that half-encircled the room. Admiral T'Kill stood next to him, feeling much the same way, but without the sense of responsibility for everything that may soon transpire. Admiral Blobbin was not present on the bridge, as the other two admirals preferred to keep his sense of humor away from the delicate first meetings of diplomatic situations, though they both doubted he could be kept away from the tense meetings that would soon follow.

"Three minutes to arrival, Captain." Starblade announced, and Captain Septaric nodded. They were now nearing their rendezvous point with the other as-yet-unknown members of the hastily thrown together task force. They had sent hails to the point surrounding the location, and appeals to all Federation governments…but to this point; they had no idea of who was going to be there, except for one unexpected representative ship.

"Anyone else showing up to the party yet?" T'Kill asked, impatient.

"Scanning…" Lieutenant Ayers glanced over her screen. "Still just the one ship."

T'Kill sighed, speaking low to Lyon. "I'd still like you to explain to me how you got a Gorn ship out here." Lyon just chuckled, remembering just why the Gorn government owed him a favor.

The minutes passed slowly, as the angular green ship came into view. The ship was not built for beauty, and was of an older class. Turock thought that Lyon's favor apparently wasn't big enough to send a ship made in the last hundred years. Lyon wasn't disappointed however, as he could see the weapon upgrades even from this distance. It could obviously still pack a punch, and care would have to be made to not insult them.

"We are being hailed." Ayers spoke, and Septaric nodded.

"On screen."

The image of the four-nacelle ship changed and was replaced by a standing figure, his claws to his sides and his face best described as raptor-like. Like the rest of his species, he was dark green, and drew out his 's' noises when he spoke into something like a hiss. Despite his ferocious look, his voice was even. "I bring greetingssss and a message from the Gorn Hegemony. Tell Lyon that his debt issss repaid."

Septaric turned to Admiral Lyon, who nodded and spoke. "Good to see you too, Maktar."

Kragnar spoke from his seat next to the Captain. "Have you been contacted by any others?"

Maktar's face did not change, though there appeared to be a frown in his voice. "There hassss been no contact with anyone elssse. If we are to be joined, then they are ssssilent."

Glancing at her panel, Septaric shook her head. "The timing was clear. The longer this thing goes without knowing anything else about it, the larger potential for danger."

Almost as an answer, Ayer's head popped up. "New hail coming in!"

Maktar nodded. "Thissss will be good." And his face disappeared, the dark greens of his ship replaced by darker green, and the reptilian replaced by a humanoid with a sharp brow and ears that formed a point.

The Romulan contingent had arrived.

"While the Romulan government will assist you, as promised to your government, we must keep to our schedules, and we do not take orders." Septaric glanced at her screen, confirming the name of the Subcommander. With a sharp look at Kragnar, who looked ready to respond sharply, she met the Romulan's gaze.

"We are pleased to see you, regardless, Subcommander Seral. Shall we…" She was cut off by another hail that forced its way through, the Romulan interior now replaced with angry reds, color of war and blood. Kragnar met the sight with familiarity and respect, feeling that it was in an environment such as that where he truly belonged. The sharp voice matched the angry look on the screen, as the Klingon Commander T'Mar's eyes flared.

"We are neither pleased nor welcome, nor were we aware that we would be joined by…kittens, lizards, and Federation puppets. We shall prefer to take on the invader immediately and in force." He snarled angrily, the gauntlet instantly thrown down.

Recognizing the challenge for authority as what it was, Septaric finally let Kragnar loose. "The lowest of us all is a Klingon dog who betrays his superiors! If you cannot handle playing your part, T'Mar, then perhaps you should return home, and inform the High Council that you were too weak!"

A beat passed, which to a Klingon meant that he was deciding whether or not to commit to an act of war. His honor had been challenged. However, he also knew that he had challenged both Septaric's and Kragnar's honor first, and that deserved a defense. Regardless, the orders from Klingon High Council were clear. Assist the _Maximillian_. For better or for worse, this was the Federation's show. With a "Very well…_Commander_." T'Mar could not resist showing disdain for the Starfleet ranking structure, but this would be his last act of defiance at this point. Instead, he changed gears to one of working together. "May I suggest that we show ourselves, as we are now one big happy family?" The sarcastic tone was not lost on all listening in.

With his suggestion, T'mar's face disappeared, replacing itself with the familiar sight of stars and blackness. That quickly changed, however, when the stars were replaced with a rapidly wavering greenish strip that arranged itself and as it came into focus was revealed as an old-style Klingon bird-of-prey.

Starblade muttered to himself. "Looks like they're sending us the best stuff." Lyon had to agree. The Klingon ship would barely have been a challenge for an _Excelsior-_class, let alone a ship-of-the-line _Sovereign-_class. The Klingon ship was soon after joined by a slightly newer yet no less outclassed Romulan Warbird, neither of which could stand against the _Maximillian_, and perhaps not even the recently upgraded Gorn cruiser. Turock correctly assumed it was due to the recent wars on all sides, each depleting their respective armories to the bare minimums. It was only due to the odd customs of the Federation that their highest class ships did not fight in many battles, instead taking on less risky but no less important side missions.

As the viewscreen showed the three ships hanging in space, Captain Septaric tapped her keypad, hailing all of them simultaneously. "As much as I like talking to a screen, may I suggest a dinner meeting on board the _Maximillian_? We'll bring the Hosters (An ancient Earth beer of particular liking to the Admiralty.), T'mar brings the bloodwine, Seral'll bring the Romulan Ale, and Maktar, bring the Meridor."

"Woo! Sounds like a convention to me!" Blobbin had entered the bridge when everyone's eyes had been glued to the screen, and remarked his joy. Overhearing this, Maktar began to ask a question, but then thought better for it. This Federation ship, of all of them, had a strange reputation, and from the sound of it for good reason. The Gorn moved back and perched on his command bar, and awaited further information from Captain Septaric.

"But Captain, surely you cannot expect…"

It had gone on for hours now, The hastily planned and agreed-to conference in the command staff quarters, and the drinks were all but forgotten. Each of the heads of ships was there, staring each other down, and silently sitting in the background were the three admirals. They had offered nary a word, although Blobbin had attempted to chime in several times before being reined in by the others for the sake of decorum. Each were there to maintain the peace, but each in turn felt uneasy, especially Turock, who eyed the Romulan with uncertainty, for he himself was half-Romulan, and that half cried out for some sort of vengeance for those lost at the destroyed station. He was wary because he knew Seral's entire self also thirsted for this object's destruction, perhaps as much as T'Mar obviously did, and while he didn't entirely deny that the vessel needed to be brought to justice, he was wary of igniting a full scale war. Lyon was silent, overseeing and assessing everything, much as he had since he arrived on board.

Captain Septaric shook her head and interrupted T'Mar in mid-speech. "I expect you to do as you must, T'Mar, much as I and each of us will. As I have said too many times now however, the willful and unwarranted destruction of this object is not an option."

Seral spoke quickly. "Unwarranted? After it has already attacked us in this brief respite of peace?"

"We cannot know for sure what transpired at the observatory…It is possible that this could be a misunderstanding…" Septaric said, slowly.

"There is no misunderstanding murder, Captain Septaric. More than one Klingon line ended that day, and now you hide behind your precious Starfleet?" T'Mar pressed his point.

"I am not hiding."

"Then what _are_ you doing? I know you…I know how you wish and burn for revenge just as mine does, just as your brother and just as all Klingons. We all feel it here, even our Gorn!"

At the mention of his name, Maktar looked up, and stared at Septaric. "…I am sssorry, Captain, but I cannot ssssupport you on thisss. I am agreeing with 'our Klingon' to declare war on thissss….whatever thisss isss."

Seral spoke. "As am I."

T'Mar simply looked at Septaric's unchanging face. "You claim to be Klingon…and you still deny what is right?"

Septaric faced him down. "I am Starfleet, and I will do what must be done. And the _Maximillian_ is in charge here, despite your protests and suggestions. If you have a problem with that, feel free to take it up with Ambassador Worf, and even Chancellor Martok if you insist. If you won't listen to me, listen to your own leaders!"

"Paah…Worf has been a puppet of the Federation just as you are for as long as I can remember…and he has drug poor Martok into it with him."

Septaric shook her head. "Regardless your feelings, my orders stand. Any ship attempting to attack the vessel will be committing an act of treason against this temporary joining."

"Then know this, Septaric. To attack my vessel will be the end of your days, and will ignite a feud that will make the Dominion battles look like brushfires!" With that, T'Mar stormed from the room. After a beat, Seral followed, not anxious to follow the Klingon but unable to disagree with him. With him, Maktar stood, nodded a goodbye, and left the quarters. After a glare from Lyon, Blobbin and Turock left as well, Blobbin pudging slowly, trying to pick up any last bits of gossip he could. There was a moment of silence, and then Lyon spoke.

"You did well."

Septaric stood angrily. "Not good enough, that should have been diffused easily."

"Who could have? A Klingon, a Romulan, and a Gorn all in the same room with their minds already made up facing down a Starfleet captain, an untried one at that? You expect too much."

"I expect to solve problems."

"And you do so well. There is no sign that T'Mar is anything more than a blustering fool, and the others seem content to follow his lead. Do you really think any of them capable of starting a war? You should know by now that just because one thing is said doesn't not mean it will be done."

With that said, the Conn beeped. Septaric answered quickly. "Yes?"

"You're needed on the bridge, Captain. The other ships all raised shields and moved off on an intercept course with the object. And the _Km'Pec_ was powering weapons."

Septaric replied by telling Kragnar to pursue, and then looked at Lyon as they walked briskly out of the room. "You were saying?"

A _Sovereign_-class command deck is truly a sight to behold, at least when there is peace. But during times of stress and danger, it is a cluttered, ugly looking thing, with an eerie red glow shining down over the chairs and consoles, signifying a red alert that in this case Captain Septaric had called the moment she stormed in. "Status?"

Lieutenant Commander Starblade answered, punching buttons on his console much faster than any human could have. "They've stopped, and we're about to. The vessel wasn't that far away."

"Have they attacked?"

"Nope. Weapons on all ships are charged and ready, but nothing happening yet. It looks like they're waiting on something…"

Kragnar grunted. "Probably our challenge."

Septaric nodded. "If this was a Klingon ship, they would be atoms, but we are what we are, and that means we fire if, and only if, we have to."

Kragnar grimaced as the communications chief spoke. "We are being hailed from the _Km'Pec._"

Septaric sat in her command seat, and scowled at the viewer. "On screen."

T'Mar's face appeared, returning a fowl grimace. "You shouldn't be here, Captain. This is no time for your cowardice. If you are not with us, then you are our enemy as well."

Septaric fired back. "And this is your last warning, T'Mar. Power down or prepare to fight."

"You would protect a vessel that has killed so many of our people! How _dare_ you!"

"I will do what is necessary to stop a war, T'Mar. Do not mistake my hesitation for cowardice again."

T'Mar grinned. "Then we shall join in battle this day, Septaric. I look forward on collecting souvenirs from your wreckage. After the invader is destroyed." His face disappeared.

In the end, it really didn't matter anyways.

Before the _Maximillian_ could react, the Klingon vessel fired a photon torpedo, perhaps as an act of defiance, and it sailed towards the vessel dramatically. It should be noted that Septaric had never felt more helpless in her life, even as she prepared to fire on the _Km'Pec._ The shot neared its target, the direct center of the crystal-like object. She closed her eyes on instinct when the shot hit…or rather, should have hit, for the red torpedo sailed _through _the object as though it wasn't even there. This gave the Romulans and Gorn time to follow their leader's plan, and while all their shots were exactly on target, as a credit to their aging ships, none of them hit, instead flying straight through the center and off into space, where the torpedoes would later explode harmlessly.

Although there had been no harm done to the object, it reacted angrily, and it's panels lit up. A bright light arose from one of its panels, striking the first to attack it, the _Km'Pec_. The light slammed right into it, and then through it, overloading its shields and armor immediately. As the light moved through, it completely vaporized the Klingon vessel, and the light continued on its path, directly into the Romulan ship, which was completely annihilated by the sudden powerful beam. Another panel lit up, and the last attacking cruiser, the Gorn, chose this time to respond, but only to send a sensor drone, designed specifically to return to Gorn space, and deliver the logs and information to tell the story of what happened here. A heartbeat after the probe was jettisoned, the same thing happened to Maktar and his ship as what happened to T'Mar and Seral. And the _Maximillian_ was once again by itself.

Septaric and the rest of the bridge crew were stunned by this sudden display of firepower, and all of them held their breath as the crystal vessel moved in front of them, almost as if it was staring them down, or engaging in a silent scan. Kragnar's finger moved closer to his firing panel, but stopped when Septaric hissed a sharp "No." at him.

The vessel looked straight on for a full minute, the sharp point of the vessel only a kilometer off of the saucer of the _Maximillian_. Then, without warning or any type of communication at all, it moved off in the same direction as the sensor probe. Not to destroy it, however. No, it was _following_ it.


	6. Secret

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Six: Secret

"I'm afraid I don't have any answers for you, yet. I have been in contact with Starfleet Command, and their orders are to continue this 'escort'."

Captain S'Quid Tai Septaric spoke slowly and cautiously, careful not to let her emotions overwhelm her. As a Klingon, her blood cried out for vengeance, the destruction of the object, giving revenge for those Klingons already lost by the recent events. But she kept reminding herself that first and foremost she had made a commitment to Starfleet, and she would abide by their laws and regulations before she succumbed to her base instincts.

However, her first officer and brother Commander Kragnar did not share her opinions. "There is no time. We must find a way to destroy this…thing before it gets closer to our space."

Septaric shook her head. "This can't get any more out of hand. This has already cost hundreds of lives, but my gut feeling is that this isn't the object's design."

"How can it not be? Even if we somehow forget the carnage that just occurred, the observatory was destroyed merely on a whim!" The rest of the command staff, finding it hard to get used to the Klingon 'discussion', sat quietly in their chairs. The Admirals in the room, Lyon and T'Kill, were biding their time until they were ready to step in, should things get out of control even further. Blobbin had decided to take this opportunity to oversee the bridge, and had done so with gusto, morphing his colors into a close approximation of a Roman Centurion, and had secretly replicated a whip, in case anyone on the bridge dared question his authority. At this revelation, Lyon had grabbed the whip and cracked it at Blobbin, who then split into fifteen miniature identical Blobbins, stuck their tongues out at Lyon simultaneously, and then all pudged away quickly. T'Kill had made a mental note to find a punishment that didn't make Blobbin giggle, but so far nothing had worked as it had intended.

Lyon allowed himself a chuckle, taking his mind off of the seriousness of the situation, but his mind quickly returned to the object as he caught a glimpse of it out the window. He glared at it as it moved maddeningly, staring at its familiar shape, and he allowed himself a quick memory, of his days as a commander, into the unknown, taking up secret plans…He wrenched himself away from the window and back to the 'discussion'. There was no time for this.

The argument continued. Septaric sighed as she spoke. "Their scans were invasive, they may have been perceived as a threat…"

"And the destruction of hundreds would be allowed?"

"We must find a way to communicate, to answer them. I will not…"

"TALK? How many more ships, sister? How many more bloodlines will end before you admit that our almighty fleet's ideals have failed?" Kragnar stood up, and came around behind her, whispering in her ear. "I know you can feel it, sister. The call of vengeance, your bloodlust…You are _Klingon_…You must admit it to yourself…"

"You sound like T'Mar." Kragnar recoiled at the insult. "I will NOT base my decisions on personal feelings of anger. I base my decisions on fact. Right or wrong, I will continue on this route." Septaric let out a bit of a growl, a small challenge entering her voice. She was slowly coming to realize that Kragnar was jeopardizing the mission, that choosing family for her second in command may not have been the best idea…but they had worked so well together in the past! Knowing his anger, she decided to give him enough leeway to let it out, rather than face tougher times ahead. "Speak freely, brother."

He stared at her, snarling. "Then you are exactly what our family has said. You are another Worf…" He stormed out of the room, grumbling and muttering under his breath. "You are a coward."

She sat back in the chair, closing her eyes at the accusation, and by the time she recovered from the harshest of insults, this one from her own blood, he was gone. Admiral Lyon chose this moment to finish the staff meeting.

"I have also spoken with Starfleet." Septaric's eyes flashed at this offhand admittance of going behind her back, despite his rank. "I am aware on their position on this matter. However, I believe they may not know what we are dealing with here. Therefore, I am issuing new orders. We will continue the 'escort', but we will work to find ways to detect the vessel…and destroy it, if needed." He scanned the crew, and was relieved that his businesslike closing, along with Kragnar's disappearance, had seemed to take most of the tension out of the room. He continued. "Captain Septaric, you will work closely with your crew to develop a way to scan them. Lieutenant Kelvok will head that team. Commander Starblade is working with me on identifying the object, which explains his absence. Commander Kragnar will head up the team tasked to find options to destroy the vessel. Lieutenant Thomas, please continue working with Admiral Blobbin on integrating the Errsedorian technologies into the ship. Hopefully we won't need them. And they won't blow us up if we do." He stopped, pleased with his defusing of the situation.

Septaric felt as though all her power had been taken from her, and a moment passed before she realized that the floor had returned to her. Clearing her throat, she scanned the room. "You have your orders, dismissed." As she watched them quickly file out of the room, ready to get to work, she looked at Lyon.

"I trust, Captain, that Kragnar can be reined in?" Lyon spoke, watching Admiral T'Kill silently move out of the room.

Septaric nodded. "He's always had a temper…but he's a big fan of justice…and if he won't see my side of things…" She pounded the table with her fist.

"He's not stupid, captain. He will because he must. A ship needs a strong command staff." He stood, and walked around the room, glancing at the gold ships, representing the past vessels. He idly ran his fingers over the _Nebula_- class model as he spoke. "This ship has always had a family, captain. We have always functioned as though we were one, and because of that togetherness we are still alive." He continued on, staring at the model. "And if the family falls apart…so goes the ship." He closed his eyes, trying to drown out a past that threatened to overtake him. He breathed, and looked at Septaric.

"Admiral…you said…that Starfleet doesn't know what we're dealing with…Admiral, what _are_ we dealing with?"

Lyon pulled himself together and gave an easy answer, one that he had used many times before. "I can't say."

"I can't do my job without knowing all the information there is to know, especially in a case like this. Is there something you're not telling me?"

"…Let's just say it wouldn't change things, captain." He nodded quickly, and then moved out the door, leaving Captain Septaric to stare at the object, moving silently, swiftly, onward on its unknown quest. Still following the Gorn probe, and even now getting closer to Gorn space.

Critch Starblade paced outside the window of the deserted sickbay. CMO Nathan Alexander was in another area of the ship, preparing for a possible upcoming battle, leaving the normally full or at least busy rooms empty. At least it was empty until the android heard the door 'shish' open, and he glanced back and saw Admiral Lyon walk in, and sit on one of the beds.

Starblade turned back around. "How was the command staff meeting?"

Lyon smirked. "Eventful."

The young-looking commander smirked as he began pacing again. "Always is with the Klingons about." Lyon appraised the android's movement, and supposed he would have to broach the subject he had been dreading.

"Why are the lights off, commander?"

Starblade sighed. "I don't need lights to see, admiral. And it's more peaceful. I can try to think."

Lyon laughed softly to himself. "We both know you don't have any problems thinking, commander. Your brain power is off any charts we've tried to measure…at least your untapped power is. The power that you choose to use is still significant, however."

"I don't 'choose' to use anything, Rob. I know my capabilities and abilities, and I do them. Far better than any other android your…our fleet can come up with, I might add."

"True." Lyon rose. "But you are capable of so much more. "We've all looked at your architecture, Critch. There is no scientific reason why so much of your power is not being accessed." He stopped, next to Starblade, now looking at the same thing the android was looking at: The strange, crystal-like object that had caused so many problems of late. "Or why you can't remember anything about your past, besides your name."

Starblade was silent for a moment. "Don't you think I've been trying, Rob?" He walked away from the window and the admiral. "Since the day you reactivated me, since you found me, I've done everything you recommended. Joining your Starfleet. Signing on to the _Maximillian_. Even Operations was originally your idea. But none of this…" He gestured around the room. "None of this has sparked anything close to a memory, not even a familiarity. It feels like I'm not even from this universe sometimes."

"Stay the course, Critch. I've never steered you wrong yet, have I?"

Starblade walked back to the window, pacing again. "No…Of course not. The almighty Grand Poobah Admiral Rob, never makes mistakes. Never has, never will."

Lyon smiled sadly, and looked down. "If only."

Starblade pretended not to hear him. "But it's weird. Nothing's familiar…except _that._ I can look around here and see everything there is and nothing registers…but that thing…that shape…I can almost remember it…do you know how _frustrating_ that is? To be so close to something so monumental?"

Lyon nodded. "I can only imagine. And that's why we need your help, possibly beyond anyone on this ship."

Starblade shook his head. "I don't know, Rob. I'm just Operations. I push the buttons. The real thinking is for the engineers. Go ask Amy, she'll…"

"Lieutenant Thomas is capable, but she's missing the senses you have. All I ask is for you to look, Critch. Keep looking and thinking, see if there's anything you can come up with."

"Fine."

Admiral Robert Lyon rose to leave, and looked back as he walked. "And look quickly, Commander. We arrive in Gorn space in roughly an hour." Lyon left Starblade to his thoughts as he left sickbay and returned to his original course, keeping a much needed appointment with two admirals, and a beer. He took two lefts, a too-long ride up the turbolift, and then another right, arriving at his destination. Tapping a padd by the door and entering a secret code caused the door to open quickly, and stepped inside, his clothing changing as he moved, his military uniform replacing itself with sandals, khaki shorts, and a Hawaiian shirt. As he sat, a figure turned its head towards him. "Bout damn time."

"And I see I've kept you working so hard." Lyon said with a straight face.

"Have you told him anything at all?" Admiral Turock T'Kill asked, exasperated.

Lyon shook his head, as Blobbin formed his mercury self into the shape of the long chair he was lounging in, transformed colors to a light green, and began snoring. The three former captains of Starships _Maximillian_ now lay on a beach, somewhere in the Middle East of Earth in the late 20th century. For all the comforts of this age, unquestionably the holodeck was the greatest.

"I know what you're going to say. You don't…"

"Like it. And I don't, Rob. He's going to find out sooner or later what he is, what you've done…"

Blobbin woke enough to blurt out a "Not the cantaloupe…" and fell back to sleep.

"I haven't done anything, Turock. Gave him a little push, that's all."

"You've decided his entire career for him!"

"He hasn't done anything he hasn't wanted to do. If he wanted to leave, all he'd of had to do is go. I wouldn't have stopped him. Not that I could have."

T'Kill glared at him, and then kicked some sand off into the distance. "Why do we always come here, anyway? We could be at a Steelers game or anywhere in history…Why always with the sand and the hot and the…"

Lyon leaned back into the folded out lounge chair. "When you're commissioner, you make the rules. As to Commander Starblade…Only he can decide his destiny. All we can do is to help him make the right decisions when the time comes…"

Lieutenant Amy Armstrong Thomas was taking a short break from Engineering to clear her mind when Critch Starblade nearly knocked her over, him coming out of nowhere. Without even an apology, he excitedly spoke.

"Amy, I've got it!"

"Got what?"

"Ro…Admiral Lyon was right! He told me to look and I saw! I had noticed the ship was just a little bit fuzzy to me, probably not to anyone else but to me, and then I adjusted my opticalx a bit…I know why we can't detect them!"

Thomas thought a moment, composing herself. "Ok, why?"

"Different frequencies! They can't be from our universe, or at least from any species that follows the laws of physics…All we have to do is match ourselves up!"

"Critch…You're a genius!"

He smiled, allowing hope to enter his mind. "I know."


	7. Planning

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

_The lights were blinking, and the alarms were sounding. Yet all was clear in his mind. He was focused, and had drowned out everything, including the yelling of the admiral who was rushing toward his station. There was no reward without risk, he had heard somewhere. And the rewards that mankind, and indeed the entire universe, would receive from this simple act of defiance would far outweigh the risks to himself, or this tiny station…_

_The white light on the screen was blinding, and the darkness came to claim the captain…_

_The young Captain Lyon._

Chapter Seven: Planning

Stellar Cartography was as crowded as it had ever been, with three admirals, the captain and her first officer, the science officer Kelvok, a Vulcan, an android, the engineering officer, and two crew members, that although not being official members of the command staff were allowed in due to their extensive history with the _Maximillian_. Lieutenant Commander Tamak, and Lieutenant Commander Korjac, the head of the Rapid Response Unit, which was the _Maximillian's_ equivalent of the Starfleet Marines. All were on edge as they entered and stood comfortably in the large room. Admiral Blobbin stood next to Admiral T'Kill, and after a minute, formed a hand out of his mercury being, pointed up at the display of stars and planets hovering above them and said in a loud, obnoxious voice, "Ooo, pretty colors." At that point T'Kill elbowed him in the side. The mercury pudged in and out and formed a large elbow that nudged T'Kill back. This display went on for a moment until Admiral Lyon gave the both of them a dark stare. T'Kill snapped to attention, and Blobbin gave Lyon a large grin. Lyon ignored him.

Lieutenant Thomas's attention turned to the two commanding Klingons, the captain's presence alleviating her fears, just as the commander's did not. She tried not to appear obvious as she inched closer to the pair. Kragnar turned to his sister. "Captain." He spoke quickly.

"Kragnar, it's not that I don't agree with you, it's that we are forced to abide by another set of rules here."

"I do understand that, S'Quid. I fear my honor speaks ahead of me."

"As it always has, brother. And always will, I'm afraid. But it isn't a bad thing. Honor has kept our race alive and will continue to. We must not forget that it has a time and a place. Endless pursuit of honor led T'Mar to his death; I don't want the same thing to happen to you."

It was incredible to Thomas how just a few moments before they had been at each other's throats and now here they were, apologizing. Klingons apologizing. She shook her head and stopped listening, suddenly feeling guilty at intruding into their private conversation. She supposed that it was the ship that made the bonds of family so strong. Whether blood or not.

Lyon cleared his throat to stop the distractions, and as all eyes turned to him, he began. "This is the present location of the object." The display over their heads showed a pulsating blue dot, followed by a computer modeled version of the _Maximillian_. "We are currently moving at Warp 3.2 and slowing at the rate of .1 per minute. Apparently, we're getting close to where we're going."

"It should be noted that at the current rate of speed, we will enter Gorn space in under fifteen minutes. The destructive capabilities of the object are considered to be far greater than the Gorn defenses, and the defenses of the object are at an unheard-of level. Therefore, attacking from the outside is not an option; we must attack from within. Commander?"

Starblade began to speak. "Thank you, admiral. As I have informed Admiral Lyon and Captain Septaric, I have developed a way to transport aboard the object. It involves temporarily changing our resonance frequencies, using the transporters, in order to exist within their vessel, whoever 'they' may be. A small military force will transfer over, disable the vessel, and get out of there. Questions?"

Science officer Kelvok raised an eyebrow. "Have you considered the possibility that this isn't a vessel at all, and you could beam into an area of solid matter?"

Tamak followed up. "An astute observation. How are we to know how the other vessel is constructed?"

Starblade nodded. "I assure both of you that the logical steps have been taken. After informing Captain Septaric…" He nodded in her direction. "…Of my plans, I transported a small probe over, and not only confirmed that it could be done, but also received the layout of the room it materialized in. Plenty of space."

"So what's the plan?" Admiral T'Kill asked impatiently.

Starblade looked down from the room schematics hovering over their heads. "The plan, Admiral," As Starblade spoke, small dots appeared in the middle of a large square area. The dots moved across a long skinny bridge to a large cylinder, stayed there for a few beats, and then disappeared as the room filled with a white light. "We get in, disable their shielding, weapons, and engines, and get out. Simple, quick, effective, and leaves us in a far better place negotiate. Commander Korjac, are your men ready?"

The Klingon snarled. "Not as ready as I am."

"Then with the captain's permission…" She nodded. "All right then, let's do this." As Korjac headed off, Starblade called to him. "I'll be down in a minute." Admiral Lyon's eyes widened at this, as the command staff group broke up and Starblade moved to Tamak. Lyon strode up to the android as Captain Septaric attempted to ask him a question, but he ignored her as he passed her by and neared his destination.

"I suggest you go too, Tamak, or at least study the plans. You are a high-up security wizard around here, after all." Starblade was saying.

"I assure you I know no forms of magic, Mr. Starblade."

"Ok…then at least you can see some fascinating things over there with us. Technology on a level we've never even considered! Just imagine…"

"Interesting." Tamak allowed.

Lyon cleared his throat. Tamak glanced at him. "Commander, I believe I should be going."

As Tamak walked off, Lyon looked at Starblade. "Commander, a word please." Starblade called to Lieutenant Thomas, who was waiting for him.

"I'll be out in a moment, Amy." He turned back to Lyon. "What's up, Rob?"

"You insist on accompanying them?"

"Of course. It was my idea, and they will benefit from my years of experience."

"Most of which you cannot remember."

"I have my instincts, they'll be enough."

"I think you're underestimating their capabilities…"

"Am I? Or are you overestimating them?" Starblade didn't like the direction this was going, and challenged Lyon. Lyon waited a moment, allowing Starblade to calm himself.

"I cannot allow you to join the away mission, Commander. As Chief of Operations, your place is on board this ship. I have no desire to risk you on a probable suicide mission."

"What…? If this is such a bad idea, why did you give it the thumbs up?"

"We don't know what's over there. Commander Korjac and his men are prepared for any eventuality. You may not be. Captain Septaric gave the initial go-ahead. I am not the captain of this ship…"

"But you act like you are!"

"Are you questioning my authority, LIEUTENANT Commander?" The threat of demotion inching ever closer, Starblade backed off slightly.

"No sir, but since this is my mission…"

"I am aware for your purposes in going, yet I am unconvinced they are sound."

"…I'm going to stop this thing, what else is there?"

"We both know why you want to go."

"…Then you know why I have to go." The silence was heavy, but Starblade refused to give in. "There's something about it Rob, I told you that. This could be the key to finding out just who in the hell I am!"

"I'm not risking losing anyone else to this thing."

"You're scared of me dying?" Starblade asked with a smirk.

"No, Critch, I'm not." Lyon gave him a piercing stare. "Part of your ego is well placed, however annoying it may be. You represent a technology at levels that quite frankly scare most of the others at Starfleet. I believe it was Admiral Hammond who suggested that we would be better served by taking you apart and studying your makeup, for the good of the fleet."

Starblade snorted. "Well, if you're gonna listen to _him_…"

"You are invaluable to this crew and this fleet. What I am afraid of is you embarking on a quest that could endanger everything we can imagine!"

"That won't happen!"

"You're right." Lyon took a breath. "As of this time, you are confined to quarters until the end of this mission. I'm sorry."

Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade looked defiantly at his admiral. "I am too…"

"I know how you must…"

"You don't know anything about this, or about me! Do you think I can just let this go? Starfleet, the _Maximillian_, they aren't my past! _This_ is my past! How can you deny this to me!"

"Critch, you had a choice when you were reactivated. You could have done anything you wanted to do, gone anywhere you wanted to go, but you chose Starfleet, you chose to end up on a starship, and did not seek anything more. Like it or not, Commander, you are not in charge here."

Starblade just looked at him blankly. "I was under the impression that Captain Septaric was in charge here. Looks like I was wrong." Before Lyon could react, Starblade stormed out of the room.


	8. Alert

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Eight: Alert

The outermost Gorn defenses, sadly, did not hold up for very long.

Despite their outward appearances, the Gorn mostly tend to guard their own borders, not wishing to conquer nor join other civilizations. It was something of a surprise that the Gorn ship had ever agreed to join in the short-lived alliance in the first place, and now it seemed to be a drastic mistake. The probe, sent out by the ship mere seconds before it's destruction, had went straight for the direction of Gorn space, right in the direction of its homeworld. It was a simple matter for the crystal shaped vessel to follow.

The defenses, such as they were as the Gorn were easily overlooked by any space-faring race bent on conquest, consisted of a few well-past-their-time warships, captained by disgraced leaders who should have retired long ago, and a small minefield. None of which did any damage to the intruding ship, which simply destroyed the attacking ships, and went on its way, continuing its voyage to the inner reaches of Gorn space.

The one ship that had survived the brief alliance of Klingons, Gorn, Romulans and Federation followed closely behind, having been tasked by Starfleet to shadow the vessel, to see what would happen if anyone dared oppose its unknown plan, and stop it if necessary. All that was known was that it was originally headed straight for sector 001, for an apparent meeting near Earth. And as had been seen with other attacking races throughout the years, the Xindi, Breen, Borg, among others…That was never a good thing to have happen.

The _U.S.S. Maximillian_, housing possibly the most eclectic mix of races in all of the Federation, looked silent and sleeping from the exterior of the ship, but on the inside, it was a different story. Holding it off as long as she possibly could have, Captain Septaric finally called for the red alert signal as they entered Gorn space, now knowing that there was no way a fight could be avoided, though she still hoped for peace, however it could be reached. She had to grudgingly admit that her brother may be right, that possibility was slipping further and further away the more the vessel destroyed. All the Klingon bloodlines that had been ended for no apparent reason by this thing, seemingly only to satisfy an unquenchable bloodlust. It made her blood boil as much as it did Kragnar and it had T'Mar's. She hoped her brother would get some small satisfaction by her seeing the error of her ways.

They occupied the bridge, surrounded by a glowing pulse of red, and accompanied by the remainder of the bridge crew: Lieutenant Commander Tamak, acting head of Security. Lieutenant Kelvok, head of Science and fellow Vulcan. Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade, chief of Operations, stood, attempting to improve the efficiency of "The Mighty Max's" warp field, in case of a need for a quick escape. He had been confined to quarters, but Captain Septaric overruled Admiral Lyon's decision, needing him to come to the bridge to solve an issue with the routing functions, and his return was forgotten in the alert. But as he worked, his mind was also seething with a new anger, and of regret for his lost opportunity. And suddenly, of new plans forming. Suddenly all his power was focused on making a new opportunity for himself instead of wishing for the past to change. He allowed a small smile as he realized that it would be easy, especially during this time of stress.

Chief Engineer Amy Armstrong Thomas was working alongside Starblade, but did not notice his hesitation as she was so engrossed with finishing up her own task, completing the linking of the Errsedorian technologies to the _Maximillian's_. She was stressed, and not a little worried. She was young, and though she had witnessed her share of battles during her time, it always got her brain working and her heart pounding.

It wasn't just officers on the bridge. Admiral Lyon stood gazing over the ship; still halfway considering it to be his, even though the last time a _Maximillian_ had been his, it had been lost. He looked at the captain's chair with a twinge of regret, knowing deep in his heart that Captain Septaric was too inexperienced to be able to command a ship of this size. The Sovereign vessels were Starfleet's flagships! An untested captain should never have been allowed to take this job! Not that he didn't respect her abilities, or her drive. But this was beyond her…Perhaps beyond any of them.

Admiral Turock T'Kill, whose main job so far had been to keep his fellow Errsedorian mercury-based Admiral Blobbin in line, understood the strife that was occurring within his oldest friend. But he knew the chain of command must be followed, to whatever end. As a Romulan, which was the rarest of rare things among the fleet, he knew better than most what could happen when anarchy reigned.

Admiral Blobbin didn't much like red alerts. Though he didn't dislike battle, as anything that gave him an excuse to march, or pudge as the case may be, headlong into a battle with a mercury-formed sword in hand was okay with him. He just didn't like the red shining off of his silver form. No matter what color he morphed into, the red just wasn't coming off quite right. He decided to attempt to lighten the mood, and morphed his head into something comparable to an old police light, spinning red and blue, and prepared to emit a shrill ambulance-style siren. As his mouth began to open, T'Kill covered it quickly with a hand. In response, Blobbin formed several mouths, until Lyon held up a hand. Blobbin stopped, dejected again. What was it with these people anyway? A mood lightening is exactly what's called for in these stressful situations!

T'Kill glanced between the other two admirals, and wondered why Blobbin aggravated him so much despite their deep friendship, why his commands were seen as simply suggestions, and why Lyon's orders were to be followed quickly. Unknown to T'Kill, Lyon knew Blobbin's one weakness, one fear, and one that Lyon was not afraid to use at any time.

Promotion.

As the command structure watched the crystalline form on the screen, their expressions ranged from worry to fear to anger to hope to despair. All of them focused on this one, possibly final adventure. None of them noticed as Lieutenant Commander Starblade slipped out of the room into the adjacent turbolift, commanding it to his level. He had to make one last check before he moved forward with his plan. He had to be sure…

It was roughly five minutes before anyone noticed Starblade's departure and even then it wasn't taken with any great emergency or panic. It was assumed that he had returned to his quarters, where Admiral Lyon had ordered him. There was still ten minutes before the ship would reach the Gorn homeworld, before the largest part of the Gorn fleet would engage the seemingly indestructible ship in defense of their home. Amy looked up from her console, as it went into auto mode and finished the last routine parts of her work for her. As it would take a few moments for it to complete, she felt she should head to engineering to take charge down there as the battle drew closer. And as she noticed that Starblade no longer was on the bridge, she realized that she should make sure he was okay before she restarted her duty.

As she walked out, Admiral Lyon felt regret that Starblade would not have a chance to find out what he had been searching for all this time. He understood how maddening it must be. But he supposed it would keep his android mind active, and would serve him well in his later career. Assuming, of course, any of them survived this.

The security officers that were undertaking the risky mission of beaming over to the vessel were all supposed to have gathered three minutes before, but the young ensign, was running behind. He cursed himself for having volunteered for this mission, considering that his first choice when he joined the _Maximillian_ was operations. But, he also wanted to help the ship as much as possible, so security was a good secondary choice for now. He wasn't planning on any of this, and had managed to have several problems with the protective outfit that he had been assigned. He knew that they were waiting. Korjac, the Klingon in charge of the "Rapid Response Unit", wasn't happy about waiting. But there was time. As he ran through the corridor, he suddenly realized that there was a figure in front of him. He couldn't make out the face, only that there was something pointing in his direction. Then a bright light, and then he couldn't make out anything at all.

It was curious that there was no answer at Critch's door, Lieutenant Thomas thought to herself. He usually was happy to see guests, even if he was in a bad mood. Something was definitely bothering him. She decided to ignore protocol, and follow a sinking feeling that Starblade was in trouble, or worse. She used her engineering override, and entered the room. The lights were off, and Starblade was apparently not home. A quick scan around the room revealed only one thing out of place: A single padd, lying on his bed. She went to it, picking it up, reading it over quickly. The padd had on it details of Starblade's original discovery by the _U.S.S. Asimov_, a science ship, amongst wreckage of an unknown vessel, a vessel so destroyed that they still had not been able to identify it to this day. There were diagrams of the ship that she looked over, scrolling through them quickly, and instantly she knew. The ship on the viewscreen. The ship that had destroyed the observatory, the Klingons, Gorn, and Romulans…The ship that they were following even now…And the ship that had brought Starblade to this quadrant.

_They were the same ship._

Suddenly, in a panic, she ran out of the room, trying to tap her commbadge quickly. She knew it was too late, he'd have thought of that. Indeed, entering Starblade's room had seemed to trigger some sort of silent electromagnetic pulse that had knocked out the electronics throughout the deck, which was now as dark as his own room. Thomas heard nothing over her badge, and all she saw was black. Thinking quickly, she opened a nearby duct, and climbed inside.

In the unconscious ensign's outfit, a little snug but none the worse for wear, he quickly arrived at the transporter room, marching in. He nodded at the seething Klingon, his own helmet open. Korjac muttered an "I'll deal with you later." Then looked at the transporter chief.

Lieutenant Amy Armstrong Thomas dove out of the duct, racing down the hall, hoping desperately that she wasn't too late. She ran into the transporter room just as Korjac growled, "Energize." As they beamed out, Thomas yelled, "Critch!" The android in Ensign's clothes looked at her, startled, as they disappeared in a blaze of blue and stars.


	9. Attack

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Nine: Attack

Lieutenant Amy Armstrong Thomas burst onto the bridge, forgetting decorum and protocol for a moment. "Captain!"

Startled for a beat, Captain Septaric looked up at the young chief engineer, frowning. "Lieutenant?"

"It's Critch! He went with the away team!"

Septaric frowned, and Admiral Lyon ran his hand down his face. He knew he should have expected something like this, knew that Starblade wouldn't let it go. He expected no less of him. Before he could react, Septaric had already started barking orders. "Communications, contact the away team and inform them. Lieutenant…"

"Belay that!" Admiral Lyon could wait no longer. "Return to your post, lieutenant. We cannot contact the away team. We can't risk alerting the enemy to our plans."

"Admiral…"

"I know, Captain, but we…" They were interrupted by a flash of green light from the viewscreen. Surprisingly, the firing didn't begin with the vessel.

An entire armada of Gorn warships had advanced on the object, already aware of its apparent intentions. They knew that it had destroyed the ships, knew that it had destroyed everything except for the one Federation ship that had followed it's every move. Despite the recorded messages broadcasting from the _Maximillian_, they were not convinced that the Federation was innocent in this. Indeed they would deal with them in due time, as soon as the interloper was disposed of. Their ships had simultaneously fired their versions of torpedoes on the vessel. Not too surprisingly, the torpedoes had gone straight through, not impacting on anything, exploding harmlessly behind it, as the _Maximillian_ moved out of their way.

Nonplussed, another volley of torpedoes was fired from the ships. But this time, they were detonated early. The shockwave from the explosion seemed to affect the ship, as it drifted backwards a bit, seemingly shaken. The crews of the armada took this as a moral victory, and the fleet advanced on the ship. Eighty-seven Gorn ships of varying size and power moved towards the apparently weakened crystal-shaped vessel. It seemed to be a masterful tactical maneuver.

Instead, it proved to be a costly mistake.

The crystal opened up, firing its white light beams with deadly precision, slicing through Gorn ships like a knife through butter. Shielding seemed to be non-existent. Their well-constructed hulls were vaporized instantly. Over the course of less than an Earth-standard minute every ship in the sizable armada was reduced to nothing but dust and memory, leaving the crystal vessel unscarred.

Inside the "Mighty Max", a stunned look came over the bridge crew. Captain Septaric was giving orders to the crew to prepare, should it turn it's aggression upon them. Lyon shook his head. Starblade was on his own now. He stared at the viewscreen, at the shining crystal that now advanced past the ring of moons and towards the planet, and whispered solemnly to himself.

"What have I done?"

The away team appeared in a blaze of blue and stars inside a small alcove. Korjac, leader of the Rapid Response Unit, could not see outside of it, but assumed that due to the size of the vessel, it would be very cramped. The other members of the team began to pull out their tricorders, scanning for other signs of life, and the power source of the ship. They began to leave the alcove, moving out into a hallway, walking slowly. The interior of the vessel was unexpected, mainly brown connections of grated railways and wall plating. A very low tech appearance for such a powerful object.

Korjac was scanning the hallway when he noticed a peculiar reading. One of his men wasn't reading as the human he should have. Instead of a homo sapien, the lone figure silently following the group matched the physiology of…

"Commander Starblade." Korjac said quietly. "I was under the impression that you would not be joining us."

Starblade stopped, having known that his ruse would not succeed long after they reached their destination, and removed the helmet of his protective suit. "I'm sorry for the deception, Commander."

"Return to the _Maximillian_." As Korjac spoke, he could hear very faint noises; explosions of Gorn ships. There was also a faint rustling, which he ignored.

"I can't do that, Commander. It's a miracle we haven't been detected already. A beam-out would be like sounding the alarm!"

Korjac prepared his answer as one of his majors stepped out of the hallway. It was a moment before she could say anything, but she finally did. "Not to interrupt anything, but…" Korjac looked up, and walked out of the hallway. The rest of the team followed.

What they saw was surprising, and humbled all of them. The ship, at least on the inside, seemed to go on forever! The hallway had opened up into an impossibly large room, extending for what appeared to be miles and miles. Brown piping, grating, and a coating of dust made up the ship, along with infrequent glowing panels, with unintelligible writing. Even Starblade could not make anything out, despite attempting to match up the scratch-mark like symbols with every known language in his database.

"How…How is this possible?" Korjac, forgetting his usual persona, showed his awe at the sight.

The Major was far in front of them now, scanning the room. Looking up, she and the rest of the team saw that there seemed to be no ceiling, and they could see right through into space. They saw Gorn ships blasting, and were startled when a series of photon torpedoes seemed to come _into_ the ship itself. They passed through harmlessly, one right in between Starblade and Korjac, through the floor, and presumably through the other side of the ship. The major, shaking, tried to explain it.

"This ship…Everything here has to be in some kind of pocket universe…Or based on a different set of physics than the exterior…Someone found a way to change something…Or with the different frequencies…" She stopped, and tapped her tricorder. "I'm getting a lot of interference. Something isn't meshing well with the instruments."

"There's nothing here!" Korjac was itching for a fight, or at least an explanation. "Can you detect any signs of life, major?"

"No…Nothing." She was proved incorrect an instant later as something came out of a dark corridor to her left, grabbing her, and disappeared again behind a panel as her screams echoed for a moment, then stopped suddenly, with only a strained gargle.

"Major!" The team rushed forward, drawing their phaser rifles, and turned the corner, preparing to fire, aiming at…

Nothing. No sign of whatever took her. Only the broken body of the major, lying bleeding on the grating. Korjac growled loudly, and raised his rifle. "Find it. Kill it."

The crystal vessel had advanced, mopping up the last pockets of resistance from the Gorn. On the bridge of the _Maximillian_, a small war of their own was about to begin.

"The Gorn seemed to have small success with their timed torpedo trick. Our torpedoes are more powerful than theirs." Admiral Lyon approached Captain Septaric in her ready room, as the rest of the bridge crew watched the battle silently.

"We have not yet been directly attacked, and they could destroy us as simply as they destroyed the other ships." Captain Septaric countered.

"Our _allies_ have been attacked, which is as good as if we were fired upon ourselves. Captain, we must make some show of force."

"What about our away team, admiral? What about our plan?"

"We're out of time, captain. They had their chance. The Gorn Homeworld is being attacked. We cannot guess the scale of the destruction the vessel will cause, and how many lives will be taken. The Gorn already blame us, and eventually other races. They think that we are in league with the vessel. If we do not take drastic measures…"

"I am aware of the consequences, admiral. But I have to do what I think is the best course of action. I am still the captain of this ship."

Lyon sighed. How had it come to this? Anything but this. But it had to be done, for the future of the quadrant, at least. "Then I cannot allow you to be captain anymore."

"What?"

"For the good of the fleet, Captain Septaric. My years of experience with the _Maximillian_, with unknowns such as this one…"

Exasperated and stunned at the turn of events, Septaric let her dark side out. "Lyon, the last time you were commanding a ship, it was destroyed. And you _knew_ what you were fighting then."

Lyon shook off the harsh reminder. "Things have changed, Septaric. This isn't a choice. Turn over command to me, or report to the brig." There was no time for discussion.

"…Then what happens next, Admiral, is on you." She fought her Klingon instinct to strike him, and instead left her…no, _his_ ready room.

As the phaser fire and the torpedoes rushed by, mostly around but sometimes inside the vessel, the Rapid Response Unit plus one moved cautiously through the vessel, searching for the thing that had killed their teammate. Starblade moved as one of them, scanning, even as he tried to shake the feeling that there was something very familiar about the figure that had killed the major. He tried to shake it off, tried to think. There was something he was missing…Something he should know. A Gorn battle cruiser, the last ship of its class remaining after the massacre, roared overhead, vibrations from its proximity to the crystal-shaped vessel reverberating throughout the vast interior of the otherwise deserted ship.

Korjac let a tooth-filled growl emanate from his thick Klingon throat. "Fan out, standard search spread." The team started to move apart. "Teams of two…" He grunted at Starblade. "You're with me." Cradling a ready phaser rifle, the android nodded, following him closely, scanning around with his significant vision. He switched through his varied visual operations, checking for heat signatures and life signs. He knew he would succeed where the rest of the away team had failed. He was no normal human, or even Klingon. He was an android. He was superior.

But if he had superior eyes in the back of his head, he would have been able to see all around him, specifically slightly above and to the left, and would have found what he was searching for. The humanoid figure moved swiftly across the gated catwalk, casting a shadow upon two other members of the team. They stopped, holding still for a beat, and then spun around to face the terror, rifles at the ready. They aimed and faced…

Nothing. Not a soul, nothing to have warranted their sudden movements. They breathed unsteadily, and one tapped her commbadge.

"Shadow movement in my sector, sir."

"Stay alert, Martinez. All units to her area."

As the team began to move as one to the location of their comrade, a dark figure pounced upon the figure named Martinez, knocking her to the floor. As she tried to regain her senses and fight back, the other half of the pair brought his rifle to bear, and fired a full power blast at the humanoid, which spun around, dodging the blast and grabbing the throat of the young man, lifting him into the air. As he struggled, it looked into the shadowed face of the humanoid, and a look of shock came across him even as his neck was snapped.

The team advanced, witnessing the last moments of Commander Mcginnis. He fell, crumpled, to the hard grated floor of this strange vessel. They could not make out the look of the humanoid through the dark and dust that had risen from Paulson's landing. Even Starblade could not make anything out. They could only see that it was human-like, two arms and legs and a similar body type. Korjac grimaced at the sight of another of his team dying, even as he watched the humanoid move back toward Lieutenant Martinez.

"Open fire!" Korjac yelled loudly, carelessly, and the remaining team walked slowly at the creature, firing their phaser rifles quickly.

The shots hit their mark, most of them anyway, but if it damaged the humanoid it did not show it. Not falling back for a moment, it leaped high into the air, overhead and then behind the team, grabbing the two team members that were to the side of Korjac and Starblade, and smashed them together with all of its might. Starblade watched in horror as the bodies hit the floor, and he came to a sick realization that this may be beyond any of them…any of _them._

Lieutenant Martinez had risen, and was firing blindly, angrily into the creature. It did not move towards her, only cocking its head slightly. Starblade, firing and moving closer, still could not see through the dim light clearly. He moved alongside Korjac, attempting to cut off the humanoid from advancing on Martinez.

Their plan failed even as it began. The humanoid wrenched free a metallic pole, glanced at it, and threw it with laser precision and deadly accuracy. The pole hit and stabbed through Martinez, and she fell to the floor with a choke, her gun firing now uselessly into the air.

The humanoid turned to Starblade and Korjac, and stepped forward. Apparently it was having trouble seeing them as well. Starblade decided to use this to their advantage, and threw caution to the wind. He quickly moved to the humanoid, ready to attack. The creature aimed and fired a punch at Starblade, and with quick reflexes the android caught the punch. He held the arm for a moment, trying to shove it back, or even break it, but he found he could not. The humanoid was as powerful as he was.

The humanoid did not make any motion, even as Korjac moved behind him. Instead he just stared at Starblade. A hole seemed to open through the dust particles just then, and Starblade could see into the eyes of his enemy. Familiar eyes…

Korjac broke the moment by firing point blank into the humanoid's neck. The bolt seemed to be absorbed by the humanoid, and it flailed an arm back, knocking Korjac to the side. Starblade was momentarily distracted, and the humanoid grabbed him, tossing him next to Korjac, near a dark catwalk. Starblade rose slowly, weighing his options, and choosing the most obvious.

Korjac lay, broken, bleeding, and beaten. But not dead, not yet. His armor broken, his commbadge snapped in two, he still attempted to rise. Starblade put a hand on his chest, firmly yet harmlessly holding him down.

"Today is not a good day to die." Starblade said, ignoring the humanoid's movements toward Martinez's body, ignoring it but reaching to remove the pole. He appraised the broken commbadge, and tapped his own. "Starblade to _Maximillian_. Beam me up." He tossed the commbadge as the vessel shook around him, and as the _Maximillian's_ signal locked onto the commbadge, it landed on Korjac's chest. He looked at the android with fire in his eyes as he dissipated into blue.

Starblade rose slowly, feeling no pain due to the way his sensors were currently tuned, but still conscious of bruising on his legs. He focused on his enemy, his nemesis, this being that seemed to only exist to kill and destroy.

The humanoid had freed the bloody pole, and faced Starblade. It held its stance, as if staring him down, and then threw the pole as it had before. But this time, the outcome was unexpected. Starblade grabbed the pole out of midair, using the momentum to spin around and fire it right back where it came from. Surprised, the humanoid was not able to do as Starblade had done, and was speared through the right breast. This did get a reaction, as a guttural, yet human-like yelp emanated from the figure. It moved back, into the shadows, and disappeared into the ship as Starblade moved forward, riding an artificial wave of adrenaline. As he marched, he noticed blood on the floor, at least what looked like blood. A quick scan revealed metallic particles, and many parts that were unknown. He decided to consider it blood, as it comforted him. If it could bleed, it could die. He moved towards the shadows where the humanoid had disappeared into, and spoke.

"Just you and me now."


	10. Revenge

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Ten: Revenge

Admiral Lyon stood alone in the captain's ready room, adjacent to the bridge. He frowned, looking around, calming down. He suddenly felt a twinge of dread at the thought of returning to the bridge, of taking the command seat, of attempting to reverse decisions that never should have been made.

He did not blame Captain Septaric. None of this was her fault. Indeed there was nothing that any member of the _Maximillian_ could have done to salvage this. He knew that the blame could only rest with one man.

The blame was his and his alone.

He shook off the dread. He was Admiral Robert Stephen Lyon. The highest ranked admiral in all of Starfleet. He had served aboard many ships named _Maximillian_, had faced and outwitted threats too numerous to mention. In addition, he had successfully negotiated first contact situations too many times to count, often diffusing issues that threatened entire systems, to say nothing of the _Maximillian_ itself.

He was the great Admiral Lyon, a name that echoed through history as one of the greats of the fleet. And now, he would prove his ability.

As the ship shook from a nearby blast, he marched with all the dignity and confidence he could muster out of the ready room, facing the music.

"Starblade to _Maximillian_, beam me up!" As Lyon re-entered the bridge, he heard the call. A moment of anger crossed his face, as he wondered why they should risk bringing Lieutenant Commander Starblade back, considering it was his own doings that had caused his current situation. He shook off that thought. He was now in command of this ship, and Starblade was a member of his crew. All would and must be sacrificed for his crew, for this ship.

"Bring him back!" He barked, and heads throughout the bridge snapped to look at him. Their opinions buried deep, they executed the orders as Lyon moved towards the…_his_ chair. He glanced, noticing Captain Septaric had not left the bridge, as he had half-expected. Instead, she was showing her true spirit, something that Lyon supposed was due to her Klingon heritage. She would stand and fight, not for her Admiral, but for the _Maximillian_ itself. She was silent too, though a look of surprising anger and hatred, emotions that he never associated with the woman, shown in her looks and gestures. She reluctantly moved from the chair, and whispered as she passed him, "They don't know." She then moved to the operations panels, gazing over the nervous young ensign, glancing at the statistics coming in. She spoke to Lyon without looking at him, and also to the computer, and the crew. "Transfer Command to Admiral Robert Lyon, Authorization Septaric 2-04." She turned and stared at him. "The ship is yours, Admiral."

The crew was surprised, but they did not show it. The tension was building, however, the stress of being amidst the battle and the bridge conditions aggravating the conditions. Admiral T'Kill approached Lyon's side, speaking softly. "Are you out of your human mind?"

"I know what I'm doing, Turock."

"Here we go again." Blobbin said, as Turock returned to his side, choosing not to argue with Lyon. Not here, not now. "Batten down the hatches, Rob's going to try and lose another ship."

"Status, Captain?" Lyon said loudly, though he could see what was happening by merely gazing at the viewscreen. The object had now moved close to the homeworld, not quite entering the atmosphere yet, and had slowed, mopping up what little resistance remained.

"The vessel has slowed, and looks to be preparing to enter the atmosphere. Kragnar is in Engineering."

He nodded. "Fine. We strike. Break off escort, charge all phaser banks and prepare torpedoes." He glanced at Blobbin, and then continued. "Prepare the Erresdorian shielding and torpedoes."

Even Blobbin was surprised, though a tooth-filled grin spread over his face. He let out a war-whoop, and his body changed into the colors of an Indian brave uniform, complete with three bright purple feathers over his head. "GERONIMO!" He yelled, and quickly moved to a console, forming hands so he could input the correct commands.

Turock was less impressed, and lost his temper for a quick moment. "You can't! They've been barely tested, and never in a battle situation! We have no idea if it'll have any effect, if it'll even protect the Max!"

Blobbin didn't turn from where he was hurriedly punching the screen in front of him, assisted by a security officer. "Of course it'll work! The calculations came from my mind, you know." He formed a third arm with hand, and pointed at his head as he said this.

Turock grimaced. "Consider the source!"

"ADMIRAL!" Lyon bellowed, and Turock quieted quickly. "I have made my decision. We have stood by long enough; we cannot risk this planet's destruction, risk failure. The object must be stopped, and it must be stopped _here_. We must use everything at our disposal to succeed."

"Destruction?" Captain Septaric turned, giving up all pretense of not listening to the conversation. "You think it can destroy…"

"The Gorn Homeworld, Captain? I know it will. It's what it's here to do. Destroy. Kill every life in this universe, and beyond."

"How do you know? How can you possibly know this?"

Lyon was silent a moment, delicately preparing his answer. "Because I know. And I know what I'm here to do, what we're all here to do. So let's do it." He glanced up at the viewscreen, glanced at the object which was now slowly sinking into the planet's atmosphere. "Pursuit course, helm. Prepare a spread of Quantum Torpedoes at my mark, to detonate when I give the word. Go."

The great ship _Maximillian_ gained momentum, and followed the object into the clouds, soaring as the sky rushed by it, as the fires attempted to ignite on its hull from the heat shield. A ship overdue for an overhaul, a displaced Captain, a worn down crew, and a vengeful Admiral all dove towards the planet's surface with the same drive and purpose. The torpedoes launched, and the battle began.

Lieutenant Commander Starblade walked across the catwalk, and gazed below him. It seemingly was a sort of bridge, connecting portions of this ship. Below him was nothing, at least that's what the looks of it were. His vision, even zoomed in, could only make out the barest glimpses of other catwalks, other walkways, and other devices that he could only begin to guess their meaning and purpose. The bridge went on for a long while, a half-mile if his calculations were correct, but Starblade knew the creature had come this way. He was caught in a game now, he knew it, but he knew it was a game he could win. He had hurt the humanoid, chasing it off. He should be cautious, he knew. The old adage came to his mind, nothing being more dangerous than a wounded animal. And that's what this was, an animal, feeding off of death and destruction like it was a full-course meal. He glanced up, and saw clouds rushing by. He couldn't guess the purpose of the object, which now seemed to be a machine, self running and correcting. He put it out of his mind. He had to focus on the task at hand.

As he moved forward, he found his first clue that things were not as they seemed. The metal pole lay in the middle of the walk, glistening with silver ooze on one end. The humanoid had recovered, it appeared. As he picked up the pole, investigating and scanning it, he was interrupted by a voice, the same voice that they had all heard echoing through the ship before. The voice of the humanoid.

"YOU HAVE COME." It spoke, loudly echoing off the unseen walls of the vessel. Starblade shook off the noise.

"YEAH! SHOW YOURSELF!"

"YOU HAVE INVADED MY VESSEL."

"AND YOU'VE INVADED MY UNIVERSE!"

"YOUR…" The voice stopped, sounding shaken, even a bit confused. "YOU DON'T REMEMBER."

Starblade stopped, and his voice was no more than a whisper. "Remember what?" He tried to track down the owner of the voice, tried to get back to a position where he held the advantage, but was distracted by a reflection off of a beam, a bluish star, growing larger…

The torpedo came through the ship, just as the weapons had done before. However this time was different. As it rushed overhead and past Starblade, it suddenly burst. The android was blinded for an instant, followed by a rush of fire and power, surging through the ship. Starblade was sent off of the catwalk, grasping a side, hanging on with one hand for his life. The Quantum torpedo had burst in a perfect spot, not seriously damaging anything, due to the different frequencies. He silently gave thanks for that fact, then cursed himself for not simply beaming in a torpedo, thereby changing the frequency, allowing it to be a part of this ship, and trying to blow it apart that way. He attempted to pull himself up, when he saw the legs of the humanoid above him, who had like Starblade and the ship, though the sudden vibrations had caused many sparks and loose wiring, survived no worse for wear. Starblade's eyes scanned upward, and stopped at the face. He blinked. The humanoid let a smile creep across its own face. Starblade shook his head. It couldn't be possible…

The humanoid was, in every way and every look, identical to Critch Starblade.

The doppelganger chuckled a bit to himself, stared down, and offered a hand of assistance.

Thoughts flooded Starblade's mind, thoughts of what this could mean, of what this must mean, of what he could and could not do next. He chose what he couldn't.

The doppelganger simply said, quietly. "Welcome home."

The android let go of the grating, and dropped into the darkness below.

"Fire! Fire at will!"

With Admiral Lyon's command, the torpedo spread shot out of the launchers and encircled the object.

"Detonate!" The torpedoes exploded in a ball of blue blaze. The ship seemed to ripple with the shockwaves, and slowed more.

Those on the ground could not forget the sight. The Crystal ship exploding out of the clouds, a Sovereign-Class vessel hot on the object's tail. They flew close to the ground, as close as they dared, above the mountains and forests, and the _Maximillian's _hull markings, were it to slow down enough, could be plainly read from the surface. As the object flew, a section of plating on its backside facing the _Maximillian_ began to shine brightly. As the smoke gushed of the superheated ship, fresh from the heat shield, Admiral Lyon shouted, "Brace yourselves!"

The object fired a single beam from its rear, striking the _Maximillian_ on its bow. The command staff flew from their positions, Blobbin in the rear shouting, "GAH! I'm buckling, Admiral!" his form bouncing around the bridge. "STATUS!" Lyon yelled from the floor.

"SHIELDS HOLDING! DOWN TO 75%!"

The object, nonplussed with the _Maximillian's_ resistance to the weapon that had destroyed everything it had previously come into contact with, continued to fire. Again, and again, at the same spot it had struck. At the same time, there seemed to be motion at the bottom spire of the object. Panels slid as it opened up, and a sharp yellow beam erupted out of the newly created hole. It struck the planet's surface, digging deep into it, burning instantly through rock and rubble.

As the ship shook, and sparks began to rain down upon them, the crew of the _Maximillian_ stood defiant to the last. "KEEP FIRING!" Lyon ordered his beleaguered crew, even as he punched the panel himself, having moved towards a control console, not satisfied with the smaller version on his chair. Septaric, shaken, angry, yelled out across the bridge. "WE HAVE TO PULL BACK! SHIELDS ARE COLLAPSING!"

"WE CANNOT FALL BACK! NOT NOW, NOT EVER!" Lyon was lost in the moment, lost in the possibilities of destroying this thing. He was so close.

Turock yelled from where he was assisting Blobbin, "DO YOU WANT TO LOSE ANOTHER _MAXIMILLIAN_?"

It hit Lyon hard, the reminder of what had occurred the last time he had taken such a large part in the command of a starship. He had forgotten what it truly meant, forgotten in favor of a life in the Admiralty, a life behind a desk, directing war games and fleet movements as though they were army soldiers in a backyard sandbox.

The final reminder came quickly. Captain Septaric had seen her console, had seen what was coming, and knew the overload that Lyon was causing by endlessly firing would take out half the bridge if she didn't stop him. She knew what she had to do. Not for Lyon, not for anyone here, but for the _Maximillian_. Her first and only command. She rushed at Lyon, screaming, and before he could react, she shoved him out of the way, using every bit of her Klingon strength. As he flew to the floor, the console erupted with a powerful blast. The fire that seared forth caught Septaric's body. The console exploded, sending Septaric backwards, against the First Officer's chair.

Lyon moved to his feet, dreading, knowing, remembering, and wishing for a different outcome, _ANY_ outcome but this. His wishes did not come true, as he saw the scarred and burned body of Captain S'Quid Tai Septaric. Dead.

Shaken, cold, shocked, Admiral Robert S. Lyon rose to his feet, unsteadily rocking as pieces of the bridge collapsed in a corner. He rasped out a few words, too quiet to hear.

"Admiral…?" Commander Ayers asked, having regained her post in the Communications chair.

"I SAID FALL BACK!" He yelled, angrily, and sank into the Captain's chair. No. _His_ chair.

The _Maximillian_ pulled up, and was further damaged by the stress of exiting the planet's atmosphere so quickly. The beam from the object continued for another full minute, and if the object was concerned with the _Maximillian_, it made no move. Instead, it closed its bottom panels once the beam ceased, and broke off from its low orbit. It peeled into the atmosphere, much more gracefully than the Max, and moved past it, not even bothering to attack the smoking severely damaged vessel. As the ships moved away from the planet, the rut made by the beam began to glow with a bright yellow haze. Lava erupted from it, but soon even that was overshadowed by the light. The planet began to spin faster. Intense quakes rocked the entire globe. Beams of light began to break through the crust and the ground. The Gorn Homeworld spun and spun until it could spin no more. A bright flash of yellow light and fire flew from the planet, rocks and debris spreading through the once proud system. And after the light dissipated, nothing remained of the world.

Uncaring, unimpressed, and emotionless, the object disappeared as it moved into the void, silent, and soulless.

_HE KNEW._

_The information that was coming in was off the charts, what little he could read as the light overshadowed everything else in the room. The Admiral had dropped to the floor, attempting to protect his vision. But the young Captain no longer cared. He felt fear, for once in his life, actual fear at what this other place was capable of, of what it had done before._

_And now that they were aware of him, of the Federation, of all of this, he was afraid of what it would do again._

_He thought quickly, as the panels and computers began exploding around him. He sent the destruct signal. He would later swear that he had not sent the probe in, that he had no control over it, and he would be absolved of any responsibility. But he knew the truth. He had to get close to the anomaly…closer to knowing more. _

_Half in and half out of the anomaly, the probe self-destructed. A bright flash took place, and then simply, everything was gone. There were no records remaining on the ship, every system and back-up system fried in the feedback. The only one who knew what could happen was Lyon._

_And he knew that if anything was to happen, it would be his fault._

_His responsibility._

_And his alone._


	11. Revolutions

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Eleven: Revolutions

Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade blinked, and awoke, lying in a pile of broken metal and grating. He shook off the general fuzziness that affected him as his systems attempted to readjust themselves, and he remembered what had happened. The sight of the other occupant of the vessel had shaken him, and he chose to believe that he had imagined the entire incident, that possibly the visage of his adversary was so terrible that his systems simply couldn't comprehend it, and reset themselves, displaying his own face. He closed his eyes, trying to shake off the memory. If he had seen what he knew he had, what could this mean? He couldn't believe it, he wouldn't believe it. No, he would instead focus on the task at hand: Finding the power source of this vessel, and disabling or destroying it. No easy task, considering what the sheer size of this vessel was. But it had to be done. It would be better if he knew how much time he had, and if Admiral Lyon had been more forthcoming with his information.

It was Lyon, Starblade decided, Lyon that had caused all of this. If the plan had went as scheduled, if he had been allowed to come along and be in charge instead of some obscure excuse, about how he was 'too close to the situation', things would have turned out much different. Instead of menial work on the _Maximillian_, he would have been able to pour over their plans for the extra time needed to make them successful, instead of the disaster they had turned out to be. It was a miracle that things were going as well as they were. At the very least, he was still here, and that brought some comfort to his mind. He chuckled as he began to stand slowly, his circuits and gears noisily complaining as he did so, even though he felt no pain. He was sure Lyon was mad as he'd ever been, knowing that the one man who he didn't want along was the only one left that could stop this thing. He stretched as he reached his standing position, still unable to shake some long-standing provision in his program to act as human-like as possible, and looked around his new location.

It looked, not surprisingly, much the same as it did on the upper levels. Grating and catwalks and alien panels stretching into the distance for miles and miles, going on for much longer than the exterior of the vessel would suggest, and he thought a moment about what this entailed. He had heard things about subspace pockets, ships from the future that could hide things much larger than themselves inside them. He wondered for a moment if this might be some sort of holodeck. The average holodeck had a relatively small size, but when the right program was running, would have expanses as large as the imagination of the user, and sometimes beyond even that. He dismissed it almost as soon as it came to his mind. The fall he had taken seemed to discount that hypothesis. He had turned off most of his sensors on the way down, did not want to know if his existence would be ended by a sharp spear or something else. He just hoped for the best, as usual, counting on his superiority and his uncanny luck to come through this ok. He began to walk carefully, avoiding the debris that he had apparently knocked down when he either plowed through or ran into something during his plummet. He thought more about the ship, and its vast power.

And what of the being in this place? The apparent Doppelganger that had killed members of the Rapid Response Unit had fought him to a standstill, and then, just as he had began, had withdrew, and had eventually tried to welcome him. He didn't know what it meant, and Starblade hated being in a place where he didn't have all the answers, or couldn't pretend he knew everything about the situation. He shook his head as he strolled slowly through the lower deck, glancing all around, looking for any sign of his adversary. He thought about the few races that he knew of that were capable of taking on other life form's looks. Certainly the most dangerous beings were the Founders, beings that had led an invasion recently into the quadrant. But this didn't seem their style. They seemed more likely to use other races to do their dirty work, or simply just to blend in among the Federation, entangling themselves in their politics until such time that they could attack with the most damage. He mulled over the other races. Some hadn't been seen in some time, others were too rare to even be an option. He supposed he couldn't remove the Errsedorians, Admiral Blobbin's race, completely from this thought. Normally Blobbin was in the form that had given him his name, a blob of mercury with a great grin. From what he had heard, though, the race was pretty far away, and not capable of such a thought. This was the race, Starblade had heard from Blobbin's stories that had let themselves be enslaved by an empire just because their homeworld was boring. He allowed a smile as he thought of an evil Errsedorian, and shook off that thought. But the blood of this thing was silver, that was true enough. It had left a shining splatter after the initial encounter, and this worried him most of all.

Because he knew that the fluids that lubricated the circuits inside him, though the Federation and he himself had no idea of their content, were silver and thick, like blood itself, and just like the liquids of his enemy. He wouldn't allow himself to see the obvious, having learned many times since his awakening that the obvious is usually only there to throw you off the scent of what the truth really is. He wouldn't, couldn't, let himself even consider the fact that this thing was one of his people. That they could be on the same side.

Starblade continued to move for several more minutes, noting that the exterior of the vessel had moved away from the populated systems of the Gorn worlds, and he wondered for a moment what had happened, regretting that he had switched off so many of his recording sensors from the fall. He figured he would find out later. There were few stars in the region of space that the vessel was moving through, and so the interior was dark, only lit by a few purple lights of curious design, sort of a loop hanging from a string which started out from the very top of the vessel, a top that he couldn't see even with his vision. Starblade's vision did not fail him when it came to studying his surroundings; however, as he could make out the many panels and lettering that he had passed by. He noted that the coloring of the panels had changed, though he still couldn't read what they had said. They did seem somewhat familiar, though unmistakably alien to any race, species, or group that the Federation had ever encountered. He was able to extrapolate from what he knew that he was in a different section of the ship, and this brought some comfort, because it promoted familiarity, that this thing had at least something in common with ships that he had come into contact with, with the type of equipment and systems that he had been trained and learned on, and that would mean that everything would be run from a central power source. This could be destroyed, or disabled. And that was a very encouraging thought. Finding it amongst this expanse, however, was another thing altogether. Baby steps, he reminded himself. First he would get his bearings, and then he would find the source.

What did worry him, more than anything, was the fact that the _Maximillian_ was not following him. He had grown accustomed to the ship, to its crew, and considered it his home more than any other ship he had ever belonged to. It was as strong as any ship in the fleet, certainly had more character than the almighty _Enterprise_, which seemed to just be in the right place in the right time more than anything else. He had faith in Captain Septaric, despite her status as a rookie to the Captaincy, to get the job done, though he would have been a bit more proactive in attacking this vessel. But all's well that ends well, he thought, still confident in his own abilities, and the abilities of the "Mighty Max". He did wonder where they were, though...probably cooking up a surprise attack, knowing the collection of knowledge that existed on that ship right now. Three of the most decorated Admirals in the fleet were on the ship right now, he knew they would not disappoint.

A sudden clanging sound, as if something clattering to the metal ground, caught his ear, and he stopped suddenly, taking up a defensive position. He waited a full minute before walking again, his hearing senses up as high as he could. But there was no sound, and no sight of anything. He walked again, more alert as he went, knowing one thing now:

He was not alone.

The _Maximillian_ floated in space, having been beaten soundly.

Barely escaping the destruction of the Gorn planet, it was severely damaged. Many of its systems lay in ruin, and many crewmembers had been lost in the battle. The Errsedorian shielding had worked, for the most part, protecting from the beam that had in one hit destroyed everything else it had encountered, including an entire station.. But for the moment, all thoughts on the bridge of the remaining command crew were of their Captain, still lying against the first officer's chair, burnt, dead. And all eyes were on Admiral Robert Lyon, as he slumped in the chair that had just recently been reluctantly given to him. And for the first time, Lyon realized that he may have made a mistake. He looked up, at the crew looking at him, some with tears in their eyes, all expectant, and waiting for his orders. And he saw Admiral T'Kill, his fists clenched, his head down. Even Admiral Blobbin could not make a joke at this point. And if he had attempted to, T'Kill would have stopped him.

T'Kill shook his head, and muttered, "We shouldn't have come out here."

Blobbin glanced up. "Why not? I'm certainly having a swell time." A sarcastic little grimace could be noticed, but T'Kill said nothing, as Lyon stood up, finally. Damn it, it was his ship now. It may be a mistake, but he would not let Septaric die in vain, and he would not let the aggression of the vessel go unpunished. The crew looked expectantly, seeming to stare into his soul, as he spoke.

"Medical teams to the bridge." He spoke silently, directly to the computer. "Stand down from red alert." He waited for the lights to return to their usual state of brightness, which only served to illuminate the destruction on the bridge. He turned to Science Officer Kelvok. "Send all sensors information since the explosion to my ready room." He turned again as another officer, the Communications chief's son Ben Ayers, rushed to a still functioning console. "Mr. Ayers, best possible speed on last known course and trajectory of the vessel."

"Yes sir...but Engineering reports that warp speed is unavailable..."

"Tell them to fix it. Best possible speed, Mr. Ayers."

"Aye." Lyon looked over the bridge, took a last look at Captain Septaric's body, and silently cursed this turn of events. Then walked steadily to his ready room. He knew he would be followed, and wished that this upcoming argument would be as private as possible. As he entered the room, and the door closed behind him, he heard it immediately open again, and knew who had entered the room. Of the people he trusted most in the world, it was his friend, Turock T'Kill, that he trusted the most. Having met in the academy, along with Admiral Blobbin, and being close ever since, the two men, one human and one Romulan, knew each other better than any other person on the _Maximillian_. And they had seen their share of _Maximillians _destroyed. The name had followed them throughout their careers, and both were irrevocably changed by it. By this, along with everything else, they were connected for life. Lyon, then, knew what Turock was there for.

"Go ahead, Turock." Lyon sat behind the desk, and folded his hands together.

Turock shook his head. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Taking back this ship, trying to get us all killed..."

Lyon sighed. "Trying to stop this....trying to keep anything else from happening..."

"It's time to stop, Rob, we couldn't help the Gorn, and now Septaric..."

"Over a billion lives just ended, Turock." Lyon stood up, and walked around the desk. "And that thing is headed towards Earth. Or, at least, that's where it was headed when it disappeared.

Back on its original course." And it's my fault. Lyon didn't add what he felt in his heart.

"Get the fleet together, Rob. It's too big for just the _Maximillian_ anymore."

"Not yet. We're still in one piece..."

"Barely." T'Kill interrupted.

Nonplussed, Lyon continued. "And now we have the element of surprise. They're going where we're going. And we can hurt them."

"Your torpedoes didn't do anything to them last time!"

"The yield was too small, if we increase it..."

"Rob, even Blobbin doesn't understand Errsedorian Technology! If we don't watch what we're doing..."

"You rang?" Blobbin pudged his way into the ready room, glancing at the two Admirals. Turock stopped mid-sentence.

"Uh...if you're here, and we're here..."

"Relax, I left Kelvok in charge out there, he at least acts like he knows what he's doing. Unlike you people. The weapons can go higher in yield. I oversaw their construction, and they did come here with me, remember. And we're all going to blow up pretty big anyway; we might as well do it with my rockets o' fun."

Turock shook his head. "You two are dealing with a lot more than just us here. The lives of every human on Earth could depend on us..."

"Call your ships, Turock." Lyon looked at him seriously.

"What?"

"If I'm wrong, then the fleet will try and take care of it. They have to be outfitted with the new torpedoes and shields; however, otherwise they'll last about as long as the Gorn did. Blobbin, you see to that." Blobbin formed a short arm out of himself, waved it around in the air a few times, and saluted wildly. "There's your insurance. At last speed, before it headed off, the vessel will arrive in Sector 1 in..." He glanced at the screen on his desk. "…About Three solid days. Should be enough time to form some kind of fleet together."

"Depending on how far away the current missions are." Turock said, gruffly.

"What happens if this "Rob fleet" doesn't win?" Blobbin added.

"Guys...we don't have any other options. With any luck, we can disable it before it gets to Earth."

"I'll put in for the council to evacuate..." Turock went to leave the room.

"Don't...It won't make any difference if we fail." Lyon said, sadly.

Blobbin shook the head part of his form. "Rob...I'm the last person to tell you about going off half-loony, but you've been acting Ahab-y this whole trip. At least tell us what's going on. You know something, fine, but at least tell us what's happening!"

Lyon shook his head. "It's my responsibility to keep this ship safe, to keep this fleet together. I can't do this with anyone else."

Turock fumed for a moment. "Damn it, Rob, it's too late for your colloquies. We're all in this together. Even the puddle there." Blobbin looked affronted, but said nothing as Turock continued. "It's always been that way, since the whole thing began! The three Captains, and now the three Admirals, and it's always going to be us, until it's all over! You can't shut us out, not from this. Listen to what's in your head!"

Lyon chuckled. "A Romulan telling me about controlling my feelings. The decision has been made, gentlemen." Lyon sat, punching a few buttons on his screen. "Blobbin, call Starfleet, start getting those ships together. Turock...before you begin getting hold of your ships...report to Engineering."

"Engineering! Now wait just a damn minute..."

"Engineering is where Commander Kragnar is, and I'd very much like it if he could be told about his sister before it starts spreading through the ship."

"And where are you going to be?" Blobbin said, accusingly.

Lyon stood, pulling down on his uniform shirt, and walked around the table. "Stellar Cartography. Getting some exact locations of this thing, and where we can head it off at."

Turock looked at Lyon, angrily. "Fine. Kelvok seems capable enough...I would recommend relinquishing command to him, Rob, once this is all over with."

"Weren't you the one that argued against Septaric being in command? Argued that we should look outside the Max for once after what happened with Tamak?"

"I saw him when we were under fire, Rob. How long has he been with us, seen the things we've seen? Man can hold his own."

"Duly noted, Admiral. Let's get to work." Together, the three Admirals moved out of the ready room, united in purpose, even if they were divided by their feelings, and opinions.

"Hold the cords together! Switch those circuits out! We need it now, mister!" Chief Engineer Amy Armstrong Thomas was too busy to think about what she was saying. Operating solely on instinct and adrenaline, she moved through the top level of Engineering with drive and purpose. Her mind focused on one thing: Getting this ship back together, fulfilling the wishes of the Admiralty. That was the mission sent down from the Bridge, and she would be damned if she didn't do her absolute best to fulfill their wishes, despite her inexperience. Captain Septaric was inexperienced too, and look how far she got? Up there, together with the Admirals, fighting against things that she couldn't even begin to imagine. She much preferred it down here, around the machines and the people that she understood. Aliens and strange vessels were foreign to her, and nothing that she wished to investigate. Down here, in the engineering bay of the _Maximillian_, she knew every piece of equipment, and everything that could happen with it. Maybe she wasn't the best in the fleet, but she knew this ship better than anyone else, and for her, that was enough.

She paced the floor, spotting sparks flying out of consoles, and realized that at this point she didn't really have to issue any orders. Anything that she was going to say was already being done. They were doing it, they were winning the war. Soon the power would be restored, and they would be able to go to warp, if their Captain deemed it necessary. And everything would return to normal, and she could resume her usual state of improving the ship's systems, and getting them to operate at maximum capacity. She smiled almost in spite of herself. For once, everything was going to work out.

As she looked down upon her people, busily fixing the many damaged consoles and circuits, and trying their best to prevent an unlikely warp core breach, she noticed a curious sight. Admiral T'Kill, walking purposefully, yet slowly, through the deck. She was about to call down to him, when she realized by the look on his face that he was not there to share good news, and he wasn't looking for her. Instead, he had chosen a deliberate path, finding Commander Kragnar, still ordering scared-looking ensigns around. A Klingon's touch is something that was needed around here at times, she noted, if nothing else but to keep discipline up. She watched curiously, stopping her rushing around for one moment as the Admiral reached the Klingon, and gestured for Kragnar to follow him into an empty room, usually used for staff meetings. She watched through the window there, not hearing any of the words through the glass and the now closed door as Turock spoke, his face a picture of serious discussion, and he watched as, after a moment, Kragnar seemed to deflate, his Klingon bravado and bulk leaving him. He began to breathe heavy, and Turock frowned, put a hand on his shoulder, and walked out of the room, closing the door behind him. Within an instant, Kragnar transformed. He could still not be heard over the roar of the work being done, but Thomas could see his frustration, and he appeared to bellow mournfully, and began angrily smashing chairs against the window, the doors, the desk, breaking the wooden table into a splintered pile. It took Lieutenant Thomas a moment before she realized what was said, and for a moment, she felt like smashing things too.


	12. Revelations

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Twelve: Revelations

"...So what you're saying is that you have no idea where the vessel is."

Admiral Lyon stood amidst a stunning holographic display of stars and spatial anomalies, moving slowly through the circular room, in the main bay of Stellar Cartography. He had been there for several minutes, while the rest of the crew worked diligently to bring the _Maximillian_ to as good as shape as possible in the short time they had available to them. Lyon knew they could not stay put much longer, but first, the proper procedures had to be taken care of. Captain Septaric had to be laid to rest.  
At this point in Engineering, Admiral T'Kill was informing Kragnar of the loss, and the death of the Captain would affect the first officer more than anyone else on this ship, Lyon knew. Kragnar would now demand vengeance for the death, and he knew a confrontation would be forthcoming. While he knew he could simply order the Commander to his quarters, or if need be, the brig, Lyon would rather not take that route, preferring that the raw emotion the Klingon felt be expelled quickly, and then his energies directed towards the ultimate goal of destroying the vessel. Lyon no longer harbored any hope of merely disabling it, knowing that they were deeply entrenched in a battle that only one side would emerge from intact. Blobbin was even now assembling the portion of the fleet that he was in charge of, in a secret location, deep within Federation space, in sector 001. Where the object was headed, or at least, had been headed before it had been sidetracked into a new mission, a mission that had cost the Gorn most of their defense perimeter, and one of their home worlds.  
So he stood in Stellar Cartography alongside its Katarran chief, a young lieutenant named T'purr Meowran. He marveled at how many of the crew were young, how many had just recently joined the fleet. He sadly thought for a moment about how many of these young officers had just been killed under his command. And how many were yet to come. He shook off these thoughts, knowing that he could not allow himself to go down this road. This was a war, and war meant sacrifices, and they could not and would not be in vain. Meowran shook her head after studying the layout, watching the vessel's course as it appeared and disappeared, looking at every point it had touched since first entering the system, and taking the first of many lives with the destruction of the observatory.  
"There's just too many variables, Admiral." Her tail swished slowly as she walked around the room. "The new information about its course being changed by anomalies, and you know there's a lot of those out there...and the sensors took a pretty good beating from the battle. It's too soon at this point to even nail down where they were when they disappeared."  
Lyon stroked his chin, glancing across the mock-up of the vessel's course. "All this I know. But I'm assuming you have a hunch."  
"I didn't think we were to that point yet."  
"Desperate times, Lieutenant. What've you got?"  
She walked around the room, scratching her ear. "Computer, reset simulation to point of entry of alien vessel. Magnification 10x." The room darkened, and the planets grew larger, until the image of Archer Observatory could plainly be seen. Lyon winced, memories flooding back of his short stay there, and the consequences of the actions. Meowran noticed but didn't say anything. She knew better than to question her superior officers, despite her close friendship with Admiral Blobbin. She looked up, mainly from habit, knowing that the computer would respond the same way no matter how she looked as she spoke. "Begin simulation."  
Together she and Admiral Lyon watched as the crystal-like vessel appeared in a flash of blue, (The exact facts of the appearance were still being argued, as the sensor logs and recordings from the observatory were damaged almost beyond repair.) And then advanced on the station. A moment later, the station disappeared in a bright orb of orange. Lyon and Meowran both inwardly sighed, wondering how such a great loss of life could be paled down to just a simple shape. It then headed off, through the systems. It moved in a straight line, not wavering up, down, or to the sides.  
"Pause." Lyon called out, and instantly the vessel stopped, hanging in space. "Computer, extrapolate the endpoint if object stayed on current trajectory, taking into account any anomalies or distortions in its path."  
"Processing." Meowran turned to Lyon as the computer worked through the computations.  
"Admiral, what happened out there? With the Gorn, I mean..."  
"Nothing we can't handle, Lieutenant." He didn't know how much she knew, and he didn't want to share any more information than he absolutely had to. Not that he didn't care about her feelings, but right now he thought that her mind was better set on her work, and not worrying about Septaric, or the Gorn, or their own futures.  
"Operation complete." The feminine voice of the computer system rang out, and a yellow line extended outward from the object, carrying forward and at a slight downward angle throughout the quadrant, on a direct route to...  
"Earth..." Lyon breathed. He knew this, of course, but it still chilled him when he saw it.  
"More exactly, sir, Earth's sun." Meowran quietly added.  
"Computer, restart program from the point the _Maximillian_ first came into contact with the vessel." Obediently, the program started, with blue dots representing the small escort group that had been destroyed. The Gorn, Romulans, Klingons. All fired upon the vessel. All destroyed. The vessel began to head off, following the Gorn probe, at the same speed and trajectory. And something in Lyon's head clicked. "Another straight line..."  
Onto what he was thinking, Meowran followed his logic. "Computer, plot the trajectory of the vessel again, same parameters." Because of the shorter distance to allow for, it was only a second before the yellow line appeared again, this time ending at the Gorn homeworld. Precisely where it had headed up.  
"Efficient, not wasting a single second...That's no alien guiding that ship, Lieutenant." He paused as Meowran looked at him curiously. "That's a machine.  
"It explains why we can't pick up any life forms or energy readings from it. Completely automated. Some sort of...doomsday machine, maybe."  
"But it has intelligence! There's a mind directing..."  
"Automated defense systems, Lieutenant." Lyon was on a roll, satisfied that he had figured out his adversary, giving him the advantage. "They only attacked the observatory after they scanned it. Only attacked the ships after the vessel was first attacked. Never attacked us until after we first fired. There's nothing there we can reason with."  
"How can you be sure?"  
"I know machines, Lieutenant." He didn't need to add anything about his friendship with Lieutenant Commander Starblade. "Computer, give me the shortest possible distance between the former location of the Gorn homeworld and the sun of sector 001, taking into account anything that could affect the vessel's trajectory." He waited as the computer confirmed his order, and Meowran spoke up again.  
"Why the Sun, Admiral?"  
"It doesn't matter, Lieutenant." Lyon was quickly becoming tired of the endless questions on this subject, not just from Meowran, but from everyone. It was time for all the trust he had earned over the past years to be placed in him. "We'll take care of it."  
"What if we can't?"  
Lyon sighed. He supposed it couldn't do any harm to expose her to what the bridge crew, and soon Engineering, would spread through the ship. "...We will. Lieutenant...billions are dead because of this thing...And so is Captain Septaric." A look of shock and sadness came over her face, showing through her fur, but still she was silent. "You know me, you know this crew, and this fleet will never let this go unpunished. No aggressor has ever survived a direct assault on Earth without dire consequences." He spoke now as though trying to convince himself at the same time as comforting her. "The Borg, the Dominion...this will be no different." They turned from each other as the computer completed the program, and Lyon glanced at the yellow line connecting the homeworld, still intact as a hologram, and the sun. He spoke again. "Now give me the time that the vessel will arrive at the sun at its average speed so far."  
Almost as soon as the question was asked it was answered. "Two Days, three hours, 47 minutes and 15 seconds."  
A look of anger came over Lyon's face. "A day shorter than Fleet's estimates..." It passed, and he turned back to the fur-covered chief of stellar cartography. "Lieutenant, we will have a funeral, and then this ship will depart. We will cut the vessel off, and destroy it, and this will happen within a day. What I need from you is a location of where and when they will be, based on the information that we now know. Can you do this?"  
She had her head down, trying to hide her emotion from her Admiral.  
He spoke softly now. "Courage, Lieutenant....for her."  
She nodded. "For her."  
He put his head up, and walked out, confident in her abilities, wishing that he was as confident in his own.

All over the ship, the word spread. Their Captain had died, heroically in a battle. For the Klingons, it seemed to be an honorable death, worthy of Stovokor itself. For those that truly knew, it was incredibly selfless, throwing herself on the console so as to save Admiral Lyon's life. There were tears, yet there was a silent affirmation spreading throughout the _Maximillian_. Her death would mean something. It would awaken the ship and propel them to greater heights, and everything from this point on would be accomplished for her, in her name. The name of their Captain, Squid-Tai Septaric, the first Klingon Captain of a non-docked starship in Starfleet, would become their rallying call. United in purpose, all fear gone. There was just one task remaining...

The railing creaked beneath him as Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade walked across the grated metal ground of the vessel, adjusting his eyesight to the surrounding ambient light. He did not notice nor see anything, had not for several minutes, but all the same he knew there was something there. It had attracted his attention before. He was anxious to get the answers that had thus far been denied, impatient to find out what that thing was that resembled him, yet at the same time he was still cautious, not willing to rush in and give an opening for the creature to attack him. Keeping his guard up, Starblade suddenly stopped his forward momentum, moving off away and to the side of the path, in between some large machines of no apparent purpose, hiding his footfalls among the low hum. He now found himself surrounded by darkness; only a slight purple illumination assisted his vision, and reflected off his skin, giving everything in its field a purple sheen.  
He looked carefully, moving slower and slower until he stopped, finding a location where he could peer out and see the greatest amount of the vast area, an excellent vantage point where he could see whoever or whatever else was out there no matter which direction it would came from. He scanned the area, even looking straight up, not seeing anything but more catwalks and machines, and above that the blackness of space, but he was still aware that if he could have survived the fall from above without much damage, so could the alien.  
A shuffling could now be heard, and it was growing louder by the second. Whatever it was was obviously moving closer to him. Faster too. But for some reason, Starblade couldn't ascertain which direction it was coming from, and he couldn't see anything moving towards him within his field of vision. He glanced around quickly, still seeing nothing, and the strange shuffling was sounding at least close enough to touch whatever was making it. But still there was nothing around. He didn't move, wary of being led into what could be construed as an obvious trap. He tensed as the shuffling seemed to move close to him, to the right, and then...it stopped.  
This concerned Starblade greatly, and for a moment he wondered if his hearing sensors might be taking this inopportune moment to go on the fritz, but he shook off that thought almost immediately. Indeed none of his systems had ever failed him before, a very good thing since even he had little knowledge of them. He knew his nerve centers were around his lower back, and he was always researching what parts did what. This was yet another reason he considered himself superior to humans, and the other known androids. They, comparatively, were relatively easily incapacitated and taken down, whereas he was of a bit hardier stock. He looked around cautiously again, squinting against the purple light, until he realized the one direction he hadn't considered, the one thought that hadn't occurred to him. On this vessel where nothing was as it seemed, he had assumed that this was the bottom….

The floor erupted almost as if on command from beneath Starblade's feet, sending him flailing backwards, caught unaware. Regaining his footing, he hurried back, away from where the broken metal grating was raining down. As his eyes focused, he saw a large pair of hands grasping the sides of the newly made hole, pulling up their owner, a large grey creature. The lighting made it difficult to make out anything about the thing, only the color and its size. It was bulky, almost as if made out of clay by an inattentive five-year-old. As it brought its legs to bear on the platform, Starblade noted that it had three, two in the regular positions, and one extending back, almost like a tail. It moved sideways awkwardly, sniffing the air with one large nostril to the side of its face. Four long arms, two on each side, extended towards the floor and seemed to act as some sort of balance. It swayed its head around the room slowly, before settling it's gaze on the android. As the creature began to move towards him, Starblade took in a deep breath.

"Oh boy…"

A deep, mournful wail encompassed the launch bay of the _Maximillian_, as the few Klingon members of the crew howled towards the heavens over the burned body of Captain S'quid Tai Septaric. After a moment of silence, Commander Kragnar stepped forward, and began to chant in a loud and clear tone, almost as if challenging the gods themselves.

"Ki-naH-naH, lo-maytoo; Ki-naH-naH, lo-maytaH; "Ko-no-ma ... Ko-no-mayy ... No-no-ma ... Ko-no-MAAAYYY...."

At that, he grew silent, and caught Admiral Lyon's eye. With a dark glare, he and the other Klingons moved off, and exited the bay. Lieutenant Commander Kelvok noticed that Lieutenant Thomas had a confused look on her face, through the sadness. When she noticed, she nodded towards the Klingons.

"Why are they leaving? It's not over yet…"

Kelvok nodded. "Their ritual is over. They have stared into her eyes, to look death into the face. They have wailed, to warn the Klingon afterlife that 'a warrior is about to arrive'. Any further ceremony will not involve them, as they believe the body is unimportant. Only the spirit which has passed on has any bearing to them. They will now celebrate her life on the holodeck, with bloodwine and song. Does this answer your question, Lieutenant?"

"Yes…" She turned her attention back to the funeral, as a sorrowful song began to play throughout the bay, indeed pumped through the speakers to the entire ship.

Starblade was being forced backwards; doing everything he could to block the powerful blows raining down from this new foe, which answered his question if there were any other inhabitants on this vessel. Each arm seemed to strike effortlessly, but with a power he had rarely seen, and the blows pushed him back further and further. He was nearing an impasse, a large brown wall, and he knew he was going to have to make a comeback soon, lest he go through the wall. He risked predicting the creature's next move, and fortunately for him guessed correctly, slapping the fist to the side and landing a blow of his own, across the creature's face.

The creature staggered back, obviously surprised, and Starblade saw his opening. He began to land a series of blows on the creature, hoping that its head was a weak spot. As the creature kept moving backwards, the android began to think he would now win easily, and punctuated his punches with words, trying to weaken its mind further.

"How about a little of THIS! And some of THIS! And…"

The words had the opposite effect on the creature, who, instead of trying to block Starblade's next hit, moved two hands in a hard slapping motion, the impact of which threw Starblade aside, and across the room, landing hard against a large bit of machinery, stunning him for a second. A light over Starblade's head illuminated him as he rose slowly, and the creature advanced on him, seeing only a shadow figure in front of it…

There were no speeches, no music anymore. Just a line of sharply dressed officers lining the tunnel leading to where the coffin would be shot out into space. Admirals Lyon and Turock both had their heads down, and Admiral Blobbin was dressed in the form of Klingon Dress, with a Bat'leth on his back. The coffin began to move, breaking the moment of silence, and instead of the all-too-familiar tone of 'Amazing Grace' being played, instead it was a section of a Klingon Opera that Septaric had enjoyed. As it played loudly, the coffin passed by the Captain's officers, many holding in tears, trying to make their leader proud, even though she had only been in command a short time. But as had been said many a time throughout history, the rank was what was important. She had always treated them fairly, and for her part, had accomplished far beyond anything that was expected of her. So one by one her officers saluted her as the coffin moved past them, to Captain S'Quid Tai Septaric's final reward.

With the speed, sound, and look of a Quantum Torpedo being launched, the coffin shot out of the specially constructed torpedo tube, past a nearby sun, and beyond the final frontier.

The creature moved closer, and Starblade braced himself for the battle to resume. After a moment, however, he realized that there was no battle…nothing at all was happening. He looked at the creature, who was simply staring into space, staring at him, as though transfixed by a vision, or coming into some kind of great realization. Then, it dropped to the floor, the back leg coming up to allow the front legs to kneel, and it bowed to Starblade then, as though he was some sort of mythical figure, and it muttered in a language that the universal translator couldn't pick up, a guttural type of "Ka ka ka…k..k…Ka…." It came to Starblade that with the light, this was the first time that the creature had seen him fully. He shook his head, bewildered at the turn of events, and cautiously moved closer. He attempted to speak to the creature. Something was nagging him in the back of his brain…something about the language, as though he could almost understand what the creature was saying. He shook it off, no time for him to get lost in unknown things. If he could get this creature to a point where it wasn't trying to kill him, then this could be turned into an advantage.

The crew was assembled in the bay now, after the funeral, still paying their respects to their fallen Captain. Admiral Lyon stood on the balcony, much as he had when he first informed them of the task they were about to undertake. He marveled at how much had changed since that first meeting, at the tragic events that had occurred, and wondered how many of them were his doing. He shook it off. There was no time for thoughts of that nature now. If they were going to make it out of this, they had to finish what they started. It was all going to come down to timing. He looked at Lieutenant Thomas, who nodded at him. Fine, then. Here we go. He cleared his throat, amplified by the sound system, and the general ambient noise quieted down for their Admiral, who at this point many knew was acting as their Captain.

"Thank you. This is a time of sadness, but we can't dwell on that now. The vessel has resumed its course for Earth. We now have one chance to intersect it.

"We must now, in the short time we have before we intercept the object, amplify the damage by the Errsedorian weapons. We did hurt them, and we can destroy them! But we can't give up, not when we're so close. This is a time we can stand tall, and we will make ourselves known. We will not fall here or any other day, we will stand between our foe and our destruction and our enemy shall rue the day he challenged us! It is time to prove what this ship can do! Lieutenant Thomas! Is the warp drive back online?"

"…Yes." She answered tentatively.

"Then command staff to the bridge. Red alert, all hands at battle stations."

The crew tapered off, but they didn't seem as energized as he had hoped. As though answering the unasked question, T'Kill spoke from behind him.

"They know what you did, Rob."

"…They'll do their jobs."

"Long as you don't get us blown apart in the process." Blobbin pudged away, eager to test a few ideas he had on the weapons. Lyon glared at him.

"Federation…Do you speak Federation?" Starblade was trying to communicate with the creature, but for the fifth time, all he got back was a series of the same "Ka Ka" noises he had already tired of hearing. It was incredibly frustrating, though he could guess what the creature was saying; probably the same question the android was asking it. Trying a different tack, he pointed at his mouth, and the creature's ears, at least where he guessed the creature's ears were, since the head was perfectly flat on the sides, and then he pointed at its mouth, and his own ears. The creature just looked at him blankly, it's three eyes focused on him, and a toothless mouth formed a sort of frown.

Starblade slumped to the ground, his back supported by the same machinery that he had hit earlier. Suddenly, the creature appeared to straighten up further, its full nine-foot height exposed, and pointed into the distance, somewhere that even the android couldn't see. It moved a few steps toward where it had pointed, and then pointed again, this time with another hand pointing at Starblade. Sighing, he stood up. It was like following the strangest puppy in the universe, but it wasn't like he had a whole lot of options at this point. Together they walked, the strange pair, through the bowels of the vessel, even as it drew ever nearer to Sector 001…to Earth.

The starship _Maximillian_ began to move slowly, then faster, until its nacelles lit up and it rushed off into space, stretching to a long line of blue-white light, and fading in a flash far into the distance, accelerating to speeds at the height of its limit, leaving behind a ruined system, and moving towards their fates.


	13. Honor

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Thirteen: Honor

Repairs to the _Maximillian_ were coming along about as well as could be hoped, considering everything that had happened and the general morale of the crew. At any other time, in any other situation, the ship would be on its way to a starbase or space station for resupply and repair, and allowing the crew to properly mourn their losses. But this was no ordinary happening; the circumstances were far too dire to allow for any rest at all. Everything had to be done on route to their destination: cutting off the crystal vessel's advances before it could reach its destination: Earth.

The problem at this point was that nobody knew where the object was, or what route it was taking. Admiral Lyon hoped, as did the remainder of the crew that knew what was truly going on, that the vessel had merely chosen the most direct course possible, eventually rejoining the original one before it had made the detour that had ended the history of the Gorn homeworld, and with it over a billion lives. Whether or not that was the case had yet to be determined, but it was something to go on. And when dealing with something as serious as this, just having a little something to go on could make all the difference in the world.

The crew had thrown themselves into their work after the abbreviated funeral, trying to take their minds off of the intense situation. At least, some thought, they weren't being attacked or assaulted in any way now, and while they couldn't take their time, it was much easier to work when you weren't worried about dying from an unseen explosion every other second. Some departments had begun to pipe soothing music through their respective comm. systems, and the results so far were favorable, as far as the officers could tell.

The halls and decks were filled with crewmembers busily rushing components and instructions to other areas of the ship, as well as engineers rewiring circuits and fixing damaged parts. It seemed nigh impossible to get from one area to the next if you had no specific purpose, especially since many decks were still closed from the earlier destruction. Fortunately for Commander Kragnar, he had a specific destination in mind. Admiral Lyon.

For most Klingons, honor supersedes all, specifically the honor of the bloodline. In Kragnar's mind, that honor had been sullied by Lyon, who had usurped the Captain's authority and eventually her command, and had been the chief cause of her eventual death. He knew somewhere deep down that he should wait, calm himself, not give in to rash action. But action was needed to restore the honor, to ensure her safe passage to the afterlife, as well as to ease his troubled mind. Admiral Lyon must apologize for his actions. The _Maximillian_ would return to its original command structure, which would make Kragnar the Captain, the Vulcan Kelvok the first officer, and so on down the line. He would lead the charge against the invader vessel, sacrificing all for Earth and the honor of the Septaric bloodline. It was quite possible that none would survive, but that didn't look likely anyway in the current circumstances.

His large frame moved quickly through the hallways, never stepping aside for anyone, instead, the crew of the _Maximillian_ either moved aside or was pushed aside with nary a word or even a grunt from the large Klingon. His teeth bore at the memory and the thought of what Lyon had done and what he had caused. And not just for S'Quid, but this ship as well. The _Maximillian_ was greatly damaged, mostly because of his actions, and the last thing it needed now was to charge into battle without strategy. Yet this was exactly what Lyon was planning, it seemed, with the sudden motion. And he, the supposed first officer of this ship was once again kept out of the loop, all the decisions being made by usurper Admirals who only appeared when they could cause the most problems and handed out information as though it was raktar scraps to feed to a starving Targ. He would stand for this insult to his and every other member of this ship's honor no longer.

Kragnar entered the turbolift to the bridge, and closed his eyes, clenching his fists as he did so. He thought about what he would do when he entered S'Quid's…no, the Captain's ready room. Lyon's room now. Going off half-cocked without a word would result in nothing more than spending the rest of this voyage in the brig, and that would accomplish nothing. No, this must be handled in the ways of the Federation, in the ways that S'Quid had unexpectedly embraced. Communication.

Explaining his position and what must be done was the only way to get through to the admiralty. Perhaps bringing up the question of the exchange program that humans and other aliens had, against the Empire's better judgment, been allowed to advance to higher ranks, though none had ever commanded a Klingon vessel. The chain of command must be followed, if for no other reason than to keep the exchange program functioning, for the good of diplomacy.

If, that is, there would be a Federation left after this encounter.

Kragnar mentally and physically prepared himself. He knew he had to unlearn the Klingon ways for now, to follow what his sister had always said. Otherwise this could end very badly.

As the turbolift slowed, his Klingon side spoke to him, almost as if a whisper, reminding him of honor, of his duty.

And that no matter what would happen now, the whisper in his mind promised, Lyon's death would come at Kragnar's hand.

"This is the stupidest damn thing that's ever happened to me." Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade said to himself as he walked along, much as he had for what he estimated to be the past half hour. Running a check, he determined sadly that it had only been fifteen minutes since he and the strange life form had begun their seemingly endless walk through the bottom of the vessel. He tried to pass the time by looking up at the passing stars, trying to determine their exact location, but it was pointless, every time he thought he recognized a constellation, the ship had moved to a new location. It seemed that the ship was taking a zigzag type course through space, probably to avoid detection. This lightened his mood somewhat, because it meant that chances were good the _Maximillian_ was still out there, and left in good enough shape to follow the ship, and perhaps make another go at destroying it. Or better yet, disabling it, giving Starblade an opportunity to get off of it and solve the endless mysteries that had been popping up ever since he had arrived here. The vessel's origins, his doppelganger, the technologies far more advanced than anything he had ever seen, and now this creature that seemed friendly enough all added up to something he couldn't decipher, yet was all oddly familiar to Starblade, somewhere deep in the recesses of his android brain.

"K…Ka kaaa…?" The creature strained its neck around to peer at the android, a semi-inquisitive look on its face, as though trying to ascertain what he had said. Starblade simply shook his head.

"Ka-Ka Karey to you too. Is that your name?" The creature had the look on his face again, and then was silent. The conversation was going nowhere. Neither side could figure out what the other was saying, and at least to Starblade it was becoming quite aggravating. He had never realized how much he would miss simple conversation if it suddenly all went away, and would relish the opportunity to have a real conversation again, whether it be with the creature, with the doppelganger that was responsible for sticking him down here, or even with Admiral Lyon. It was a testament to how much he wanted to go back that he would even want to talk with Lyon again.

"Karey…Karey…" The creature began to babble, and Starblade suddenly wondered if he had hit upon something with the earlier statement.

"Karey. Your name is Karey?" The creature stopped in his tracks for a second, then looked at Starblade excitedly.

"Ka-Ka Karey! Karey!"

"Riiiight." Starblade shook his head. The absurdity of the situation was crushing him. The fate of the universe was at hand, and here he was teaching a dumb animal how to speak! He started walking again, as the creature pointed at him.

"Riiiight?" It pointed at him, anxious.

"No. Critch."

The creature's eyes lit up. "Critch!"

"Yes. Critch. My name."

"Critch! Critch!" It jumped up and down, very excited, as though it had found something precious.

"Um..yeah. Critch Starblade."

"Starblade!" The creature pulled him into an alcove, next to a considerably high-tech looking architecture. It put his hand on a flat panel, and pulled it away, then did it again, looking at Starblade. Bemused, he realized that he had become the trained puppy. Not something he was happy about, but when in Rome… He placed his right hand on the panel, and waited. The creature moved back, and too late Starblade wondered if this whole thing had been an elaborate setup, some kind of trap.

As soon as he realized this he felt a shock go through his entire body. Electric streams moved through his systems and his consciousness, hitting every particle and fiber of his being. He felt explosions ripple through him, awakening him more than he had ever felt before. The sensations honed in on his brain, the central nervous system, located strangely at his lower back. From there it encompassed everywhere, and everything. He saw nothing but bright flashes, felt nothing but quakes. He flailed about for what seemed like hours but in reality was only seconds, until his palm lost it's somehow magnetic connection with the panel, and he fell to the ground, soundless, and lay there, having lost all sense and reason.

"I'm sorry, Commander, that's not something I can allow." Admiral Lyon sat behind his desk in his ready room, barely acknowledging Kragnar's presence. He was buried behind a pile of padds, and he was picking them up almost at random, looking at them, pushing a couple of times on the screen, and then forgetting them again, putting them down, and starting all over again. Kragnar had showed considerable restraint for his race, using the door chime, waiting patiently until Lyon had asked him if there was something he needed, and then he explained his viewpoint, being careful not to show any anger or ill will towards the Admiral. Lyon, for his part, seemed to have listened for about half a moment before moving on to his next task. This, combined with the negative response, only served to fuel the bubbling pit of anger within Kragnar, who seethed. He was very close to making a poor decision, and he knew it.

Instead, he took a deep breath, remembered that diplomacy and communication were powerful weapons as well, and spoke again. "With all due respect, I'm not sure if you understood me correctly, Admiral."

Lyon did not pause. "I heard every word. This has been laying heavily on my mind ever since I made my original decision. I am well aware of your position, and your relationship to the crew, and of course to Captain Septaric. But your record, indeed, the record of anyone in the chain of command does not show anyone suited to the current strife."

"Admiral…"

"This matter is closed, Commander. Is there anything else?"

Kragnar had about had it with doing things the Starfleet way. Lyon's mind was made up, there seemed to be nothing that could change it. Kragnar shook his head. He had one last gambit to play.

"May I speak freely, Admiral?"

Lyon sighed, exasperated. He was growing tired of the constant interruptions. This was not something that he had the time or patience to deal with. All these orders had to go through, all this information had to be processed…and he was the one that had to do it, or the consequences would be too dire to even imagine. He was careful not to slam down the padd he was currently tapping and glared at the Commander. "Fine."

Kragnar did not miss the subtle way Lyon was giving him signals to wrap this up, but the one route that had not been taken, the direct route, was the last chance for Kragnar to settle this the Federation way. Or the last chance for Lyon to save himself, the voice in Kragnar's head whispered.

"Sir, I believe you're making a mistake."

"So does half this ship."

"You are placing your ego and your personal interests above the _Maximillian._ Already you've…"

Lyon stood, angry, now almost as mad as Kragnar had been. "How _dare_ you come in here and accuse me. How _dare_ you say that I'm placing myself over this ship. _Nothing_ is above the _Maximillian_, Commander, do you understand?"

Lyon moved around the table, in Kragnar's face, an obvious challenge. A five-star Admiral, Lyon knew exactly what he was doing.

"This ship has been my entire life, Commander, from before you were even entered into your first school, before you killed your first Targ. I know more about the capabilities of this ship and every member of this crew than any two people, and more than that, I know about that thing out there. You want revenge, fine, I understand that, say that. But don't come into my ready room and tell me that the Empire's honor is at stake. I know full well what's at stake here, Commander."

Lyon gestured wildly to the window, his voice getting louder. "If we fail, then the Federation falls. Who will protect your Empire then? This is the first strike in a war, and I will not be remembered by its few survivors as the man that could have saved worlds upon worlds if he had just obeyed protocol!"

"Lyon…" Kragnar was nigh-growling now, and far beyond ranks.

"That would be Admiral, Kragnar. If you have a problem with how things are going, take it up with Starfleet Command. Right now, you have ten seconds to leave my ready room or you will find yourself in the brig until either the vessel is destroyed or kingdom come. Make your decision."

Kragnar restrained himself as much as he could. A single hard blow, unexpected, would at the very least knock Lyon unconscious, and at the most kill him. Honor would be restored. His fist clenched as he stared at Lyon, who simply stared back at him, awaiting his decision.

But it was not what _she_ would have wanted. Not here. Not now. Too much had yet to be decided. Too many decisions yet to be made. He unclenched his fist, nodded, and Kragnar left the ready room, leaving Lyon to exhale, knowing what could have just happened, knowing that he had defused a potentially deadly situation by lighting a larger fuse. He knew Kragnar was too much of a Klingon to go away completely, and this was not over. And he understood his feelings. But now there were other things to obsess over. The fleets. The _Maximillian_. The vessel.

All at once, Starblade knew everything there was to know. He remembered the past, saw the present, and could even decipher the future. It was too much, even for his vast stores of knowledge, and as quickly as it appeared before him, it disappeared. But not completely, not as cleanly as it must have the first time his memory had disappeared. Fragments of the past floated before him as he drifted in and out of his dreamlike state, his body laying prone on the metal grating of the vessel, the stars moving far above them, almost too high to see, certainly too many to count. He now could remember things he never could before…flashes of great cities, held together by single indestructible walkways, suspended over a limitless void. A great swirling portal, delivering a vessel, identical to the one he had been found with and not dissimilar to the one he was currently occupying now. A cataclysmic crash and then whiteness so blinding and deep that it penetrated even the closing of his eyes. And then…Lyon.

A conversation that he should have never remembered, one that he was not awake during. Yet clear as day he could hear the words in his head, almost see the faces. It was years before, and it was Lyon and Captain Stephenson of the Science Ship Asimov, and there was a debate.

"_This…thing cannot be allowed to live, Captain."_

"_Admiral, he's not a thing! He's a living being!"_

"_I know precisely what it is, Captain Stephenson. A threat. It must not be allowed to carry out its mission."_

"_We don't even know what his mission is! He could be an explorer, like the Errsedorians! He could be…"_

"_And if not? If it was sent to destroy us? Destroy the Federation? What then?"_

_Silence._

"_What if he can't remember?"_

"_Hedging our bets on what will happen when it wakes up is not an acceptable way to solve this, Captain."_

"_Captain, his inner workings are alien but there are some similarities to a positronic brain in his lower back. I believe I can isolate the memory functions."_

_Silence._

"_I'm listening."_

"_If he doesn't remember, he can't hurt us. Think of how much Commander Data has meant to Starfleet! Think of how much an even more advanced android would bring to the Federation!"_

"_You are proposing a memory wipe."_

"_Not a wipe. He's a computer, a very sophisticated computer, I don't know enough of his differences from the positronic type to even begin to wipe. But a total blockage of his past memories, where they can be overwritten with new ones…I can do that."_

"_And if you fail?"_

_Silence._

"_Then he will be destroyed."_

_Silence, and a great sigh._

"_Do it. Inform me when the procedure is complete. No one else knows, Captain."_

"_Thank you, Admiral."_

He blinked to life and rose slowly, rubbing his head. He was tired of falling, tired of not knowing everything he should know. Tired of everything. Lyon…This was all because of Lyon. He rose to his feet, noticing the creature assessing him. Then yet another unexpected thing happened.

The creature spoke.

"Starblade…Come. Come now."

The android was taken aback. Was everyone lying to him? "You speak Federation?"

The creature was equally surprised. "You speak Marconian?"

Starblade frowned. "What are you talking about, you sound like me!" On a hunch, as he said this, he ran an internal sound check on his systems. When the creature spoke, it was the same guttural throat-scratchings it had been. When Starblade himself had spoke, however, instead the language of the Federation that he had expected, it was the throat-scratchings. Either the universal translator had begun to work, or… He looked over at the panel, back to its prior blinking on and off.

"We understand! Come now!" It grabbed his arm, and once again they were off through the ship, but an important first step had been made, and Starblade sensed that they were closer to their destination, if nothing else, because the lights had grown brighter, and in the distance they were brighter still. Inside he was in turmoil, as he remembered the conversation he should never have known about, and compared that to his first meeting with Lyon that he knew of. Was everything a lie? Was it all just a game to Lyon and his Federation?

"_Sir, he's awake now."_

"_Very good." Admiral Robert Lyon entered the makeshift sickbay of the Science Ship Asimov, which right now since their rushed docking at the nearby Archer Observatory was completely deserted save for Lyon and Captain Chris Stephenson, who was already on his way out, on order of Lyon. He looked around the sickbay for a moment until he saw the dark-haired man, looking quizzically around the room. If he didn't already know, hadn't already seen the insides of him, he would have never guessed that this man was in fact not a man at all, but an impossibly advanced robot, the likes of which the Federation, indeed, no-one in this universe had ever seen. Lyon approached him slowly, as the android glanced at him._

"_Hello."_

"_Hello, I am Admiral Lyon. You know Federation Standard?"_

"_The Captain has programmed me with all the languages he could find…"_

"_I understand you are having memory problems."_

"_Yes." The android frowned. "I can't remember much…"_

_Lyon stopped, worried. "What do you remember?"_

"_My name."_

_Relieved, Lyon closed the distance further, and offered a hand. "I'm Admiral Lyon, or just 'Rob'."_

_The android stared at the hand before he made a mental connection, and took it, shaking it with a firm grip. "I am Critch. Critch Starblade."_


	14. Identity

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Fourteen: Identity

The darkness in this corridor of the vessel seemed to overtake Starblade's senses as he moved, following closely behind the strange alien, one half of the strange pair that controlled this behemoth of a ship, the other half being someone who looked exactly like Starblade himself. The past few moments were so bewildering that he had chosen to completely end letting his mind wander about the possibilities of what could happen and what everything meant. He assumed that he was being led to the creature's master, the doppelganger who he had already fought for a short time, though there was no effort for understanding in that instance. As a matter of fact, he seemed to want to help him, having tried to save him from the very long fall. He regretted now that he had not taken the offer of help, but he supposed it would all end up the same anyway. At that point it had been too late to stop the attack, especially since from all appearances both occupants of the vessel were far away from any command area…unless everything here could be used as a control panel…He shook off the thoughts as they approached a more lighted area, and dimmed his lighted vision which only partially illuminated the area around him. He gazed upon the new sights of an area that was different from anything else he had seen here.

The room seemed to be hollowed out, instead of the mechanical look of the rest of the vessel. Holographic screens not unlike the one found on the bridge of the _Maximillian_ covered the walls and extended up for what seemed like miles, to a row of catwalks far above Starblade. The screens were much smaller than the _Maximillian_ screens, though still large enough that he wouldn't mind having one in his own quarters. The screens showed many different things, some things that Starblade couldn't even identify, but mostly stars and flight paths with unknown origins and destinations. Some had bright lights and explosions, and next to that particular bank of screens was the doppelganger, regarding them with a look of what could be described only as sadness. The hole from where the pole had run the doppelganger through had not healed, and still stood as a reminder of their earlier battle. But if there was any hatred left for the android, the twin did not see it, instead turning to Starblade, who tensed, but a happy look spread across the familiar face as it began to speak.

"Commander Starblade…still alive. Your people would say that I am happy that you are."

"Thanks..." Starblade glanced at the creature that had led him here.

"I'm sure you have a lot of questions, and I will answer them. That is my Ka-Ki-Ri." The sudden translation broke, and Starblade assumed it was no word existed that matched up with what was being said. It came back soon enough, however. "He has served me well. You are dismissed, Ka-Ki-Ri." As the translation cut off again, the creature nodded, and disappeared quickly back into the shadows, as though afraid of being rebuked. After a moment, the doppelganger's attention turned back to his counterpart.

Starblade shook his head. "What…Who are you? What's all this about?"

"My name…In the Marconian language it has forty-seven syllables, all of varying length. Unpronounceable by means you are accustomed to. You may call me Canty."

"Canty?"

"I have studied your universe's works of art, your literature, all of it that we were able to recover from the…incident. One item of particular note was a work of a "Twain" who wrote of a prince, and a pauper, in your language. Two men of separate birth yet of the same exact look. Canty, and Edward." As he continued, he crossed around the room, nodding towards separate screens, which, responding to unspoken commands, switched to various productions of 'The Prince and the Pauper" throughout Earth's past. Canty spoke over the visual stimulus. "One was born to royalty, the other, to poverty. Separated by their lives, they were reunited by chance, and they swapped lives. Now don't misunderstand, Commander Starblade, I do not wish to share your life. However, the simple existence of two beings with such similarities…You can imagine it spoke to me."

"You knew who I was? You came here for me? All of this, to find me?"

"No! I mean…I did come here for you, but it isn't like you think. I had to stow away on this vessel, had to stop this…I knew I needed help, and I knew you were here. Chance has brought us here, Critch."

Starblade drew closer to Canty. "You better start explaining yourself quick. You just rode in here from who knows where on a ship that just blew apart millions of people…Not to mention you seem to know an awful lot about our history…and me."

Canty sighed, and stared at a screen for a moment, switching to a image of a vast metallic city, suspended in the air in a crystal shape even larger than the vessel's exterior, many hundreds of times larger. It was obvious that that this place was home to him. "This…is Marconia. Our home, Critch. Where we were designed. Where we were…born, so to speak."

Starblade took an involuntary step backward. This was all completely new to him. "There's no such place…"

"Not in this universe. Our home lies across the span, in what you would call an 'alternate universe'. We are part of the 890,034th production of new souls, over a thousand of your years ago."

"But I have this universe's name, at least one that's like it. Critch Starblade has three syllables. If we're from the same place, why are our names so much different? Why am I here, and not you or any other 'Marconians'?"

"Everything would have been fine, our two universes blissfully unaware of each other…if not for the incident."

"That's the second time you've mentioned some kind of 'incident'. What are you talking about?"

"Tell me, Critch, do you recognize the name, 'Admiral Robert Lyon'?

Time stopped for him, as the world closed in upon him. Why did he know who Rob was? What did Lyon do?

The _Maximillian_ was filled with noise, crewmembers in every department working hard to keep the ship running as well as it was, despite the horrendous damage. But within Admiral Lyon's quarters, kept in immaculate condition no matter if he was on board the ship or not since it served as his flagship, all was silent as he sat in quiet contemplation. The past few events, though giving him exactly what he wanted, were weighing heavily on his soul.

He sat on his couch, going over the statistics and information gathered from the vessel, reaffirming that he was on the right path. He was assuming that when the mysterious ship disappeared from sight, it remained on the same path and in the same universe. Everything he was now seeing suggested that his hope was fact, which relieved him quite a bit. Not as much as he thought, though. If it didn't change course in any way, it meant that it did not see the _Maximillian_ as a threat. While they held the element of surprise, they knew they were outgunned. Their only hope was one decisive blast. And knowing everything that he knew about the vessel, he knew that one shot taking them out was damn near impossible.

He had Blobbin working on upgrading his Errsedorian-based weaponry to their maximum levels, yet he still knew that wouldn't be enough. T'Kill was arranging for the rest of Starfleet to join them, but he thought that would be too late. He shook his head as he stood. Here he could think no more, surrounded by starlight and pale grey walls that served as little comfort, and did not calm his nerves at all. Times like this there was only place he could go. A place that had not existed in several hundred years.

Lyon left his quarters, and passed through the halls. He noted the stunned silence of the crewmembers he passed, and knew that before he had come across them that they had been talking about him, about this entire situation. He had no idea what they were talking about, and thought better of confronting them. Soon enough they could get their aggressions out in a straight fight, instead of the endless buildup that could harm just as much as the battle could. Not physically, but certainly mentally.

Through the decks he spread his endless silence, the stern look that had settled on his face ending whatever discussion had been going on. And eventually, after an uncomfortable turbolift ride with a restless ensign, Lyon arrived at his destination: Holodeck 3.

Inside he stepped, and spoke for his most relaxing program to appear. And in an instant, it did. The place was Cyprus, a very hot, remote section of Earth.

A few years before, then-Captain Tamak had set in motion a chain of events that led to Admiral Lyon being stranded in the late-twentieth Century on Earth. Here he had spent much time in Cyprus, learning the customs and ways of its people. If there truly was a heaven, Lyon thought, certainly this must be it. So here he was again, laying on a lawn chair, sipping a Hoster's beer (Same time period, but from a wholly separate area of the world, discovered by accident.), and thinking the past events over. And as usual, as he did this, no matter where he was, he was interrupted by Admiral Blobbin, coming into the Holodeck in a way only he could, rolling his mercury form onto the sand. Lyon closed his eyes. "I could've sworn I locked the door."

"You did. And what a surprise! Rob relaxing, while everything goes to hell out there!"

"That's why I have underlings, Blobbin. Someone has to do the dirty work."

Blobbin rolled his eyes, and formed a lawn chair of his own. A small bit of his form even changed into a drink, complete with tiny umbrella. Blobbin's face came out of the back of the chair, and he sipped. "Tasty. Heard what's been going on out there?"

"Going to hell, according to you. Save the fact that we're running at 80% efficiency, which is a bit better than I was hoping for."

"I'm not talking about your tech, Rob, I'm talking about the crew."

"They don't like me. They never did, I'm past caring about that."

"It's gone beyond just 'Awww, they hate me', it's gone to full blown 'Awww, they think I stole the ship.'"

"I was well within my rights to…"

"I'm not arguing that any more. We agree you're wrong, moving along. But several hundred people think that you forced her into it. And they're not wrong. A mutiny is the last thing we need right now."

"We're not going to have a mutiny. It'd never happen, it'd never succeed…"

"Maybe, maybe not, but a whole lot of pissed crew would end up in the brig, and we need them right now. We can't run the whole ship ourselves. Well I might be able to, but…"

"What do you suggest? Promoting Kelvok? Going along with Turock for once in your life?"

"How about Tamak? Sending you to the middle ages would be good for a laugh!"

"Twentieth-Century."

"Close enough. But we're going to have to do something. You won't tell us what you know, fine. But this isn't your war, Rob. Sooner or later you're going to need their help, and it might not be there if you keep this up."

"I said it before; I know what I'm doing."

Blobbin scoffed as he reformed into his namesake shape. "I'm glad someone does." Without another word, he rolled out of the holodeck, the arch disappearing behind him. Lyon shook his head. It couldn't be helped. He couldn't help anyone else's feelings. But he couldn't tell them what he had done, what he had caused.

If he did, then there most certainly would be a mutiny.

"So this Lyon is your friend?" Canty had a very confused look on his look.

"Sorta…Small universes, huh?"

"Indeed…Critch, what do you know about the circumstances of your arrival?"

"Not much, I don't remember anything. I woke up, and Ro…Admiral Lyon was there. And from then on, I chose to be here, I chose to do everything here…"

"Free will was one of the first things they developed in our race, Critch. It is very important, as important as emotion. It is the key for our survival, and what we have accomplished.

"For hundreds of thousands of years, we have thrived as the only ones that existed in our universe. Peace reigned."

Starblade shook his head. "Wait, only ones existing? How is that possible?"

Canty shook it off. "Nobody knows. All we knew was that we were constantly improving ourselves. We had no knowledge of anywhere else, nor did we want to.

"Until the probe."

"The Probe?"

There was a sudden sigh from the doppelganger. "We discovered later, when we studied the vast information that came with it, that the probe was only meant to satisfy the curiosities of your Federation. Regardless, when it came through, the strain of changing universes caused an immense energy backlash. It would have been manageable, save for one man's choice. Lyon was controlling that probe, you see."

"No…"

"We studied the aftermath once we developed suitable technology. Lyon had led the probe into our space, and then used the energy backlash to wipe out several of our vessels. Except the energy was too much, and the energy overtook much of the city…several generations were lost on that day…"

Starblade slumped against a wall as Canty continued. "Afterward, there was what you would refer to as 'martial law'. This was most unfortunate, as the ruling party was ran by a most sadistic being, who had developed illegal weapons. You stand in one of those weapons."

"This ship is a weapon?"

"Designed for stealth and destructive capabilities. It is not heavily armored, only protected by several redundant power cores. Designed to be completely automated, it was one of two vessels to be sent through. The first vessel was a prototype, and as with this one, one of the opposition was able to sneak aboard to disable it. They were able to do so, destroying it as it entered this universe, using the immense energies against it. At the cost of their own life, so thought most of our wise men.

"But some thought different. While there was much wreckage, some of us knew that no body had been recovered. The technology was available, and we peeked through the veil of the universes to see your body, Critch. Your body being recovered by those we thought to be our enemies."

Starblade breathed heavier. "But…you said you discovered that Lyon didn't mean to…"

"The probe was meant for peaceful purposes, Critch. Lyon used it as a weapon. The ruling party took it as an attack, and thus this machine has been sent. And I believe it was used as a weapon, however I am not going to doom the entire human race because of one man's folly."

"Canty…what is this thing going to do?"

"Do to every human planet what it did to the first planet. Annihilate it. We have to stop it. Don't you see? This is why Lyon has brought his ship here! Why he is hell-bent on our destruction instead of merely working further to contact us! If your Federation discovered his treachery, if his secret was discovered…"

Starblade closed his eyes tightly, his hand balling up in a fist. "Then his career would be over. He'd be thrown in a brig."

"Critch…help me stop this thing…but not destroying it, not this time. Disabling it, let the truth out, is the only way to keep this from happening ever again." The screens flashed behind him, and were replaced by images of the probe coming through space, into what Starblade assumed was Canty's universe. The destruction that followed was unspeakable. Bodies, parts of bodies, and other unidentifiable parts spinning away from explosions beyond reckoning.

"What…What do I have to do?"

Behind him, Canty laid a hand on his shoulder, as though to reassure him. Starblade didn't see the small hint of a smile play across the other android's face.

"Tell me what the _Maximillian's_ going to do next, Critch…Tell me all about this…Lyon…"


	15. Situation

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Fifteen: Situation

Admiral Robert Lyon leaned forward in his seat on the bridge, his hands folded in front of him. He was staring at the viewscreen, its size magnified for ease of sight to everyone on the crew. It was beautiful, the way the glistening stars moved past the _Maximillian_,  
the way the various nebulas, few and far between in this area of space, glittered against the darkness. None of this brought any comfort to the battered Admiral, who glanced down at the small padd on the arms of the chair, confirming a sensors report. He turned to Science Officer Kulas.  
"Anything?"  
She shook her head, a hint of annoyance in her voice, which Lyon ignored. "Same as the last time, sir. Not even a molecule out of place."  
He nodded, and sat back. They had arrived in this section of space a half hour before, and using some quickly reprogrammed sensor equipment, had set themselves on the arduous task of finding something that did not want to be found. Lyon thought they had the upper hand, due to the fact that they had uncovered the exact frequency that the  
vessel operated at, having beamed their crewmembers over in a disastrous encounter. There were still unknowns, however, unknowns that gnawed at the back of Lyon's brain. Could they change which frequency they operated on at will? Was their cloaking technology far superior to even the Romulans, who the Federation still had problems  
tracking? Lyon chose to ignore these thoughts. There were always unknowns, but it was far better to concentrate on the things that he did know, and to use the resources he had in hand. He tapped his console.  
"Lyon to sickbay."  
"Alexander." Nathan Alexander responded quickly. Despite everything that had happened, he still considered Lyon a close friend.

"Doctor, what is the state of Commander Korjac?"

"Not up to walking around or anything, but he should recover

nicely…eventually…He's currently sedated."

"Is he rousable?"

"Wouldn't recommend it. He needs to heal, sir."

"I need information that he has, Doctor."

There was a heavy sign over the comm. "Fine. But keep it short." It cut off sharply, but Lyon paid it no mind. He got what he needed, what Doctor Alexander thought about it was not relevant to the situation. It had to be done. He tapped his commbadge as he began to move out of the bridge.

"Lieutenant Thomas, meet me in sickbay." As he neared the door, he called out over his shoulder to Lieutenant Commander Kulas, still manning the science station diligently. "Continue scanning. Inform me the moment you find something. Commander Kelvok…You have the bridge."

Without any surprise shown, customary for the Vulcan, Kelvok moved to the command chair even as the turbolift doors closed behind Admiral Lyon.

"There's…not much to tell…" Starblade was understandably ambivalent about sharing private information with his doppelganger, despite the believable story that had just been imparted upon him. He knew enough to be wary of things that seemed too good to be true, and too easy to believe. But it certainly was tempting to follow along with everything that Canty had shared with him.

"Come now, Critch! You say he is your friend, you suggest you have worked alongside him, you have to tell me what you know!" The other android spoke as though he had practiced the language for a long time, though Starblade knew it was only some kind of translation device far more advanced than the standard-issue universal translators that changed the language spoke and heard to sound like the spoken language of the speaker. Still, it was unnerving to hear someone from a completely separate universe speak as though he was a denizen of this area.

"Look, what you're asking for is for me to commit treason against the Federation…Not to mention this seems like a distraction…We should be shutting this thing down! Worry about Lyon later!"

"I have several subroutines of this vessel working to disable the redundant power cores. Once we expose the main core, we can shut it down. We have to work with how the ship works…if it suspects something is amiss; it will shrug us off like a C'eig off a mkf jkl." The translation broke yet again, and Critch began to wonder if his translator was interfering with its counterpart on the vessel.

"Whatever that means." Starblade stopped. "The ship is alive?"

"Critch, _all_ technology is alive. Thinking within the boundaries of the artificial intelligence that was programmed into it…like us, Critch. We are generations more advanced, but never forget what you are."

"And what's that?"

"A machine. You have been thinking as a human for too long!"

"That's not true! I don't want to be human at all!"

"And why should you? With your powers and capabilities, you should be ruling them, not serving with them!" Starblade frowned at this statement, but Canty continued. "Lyon has already forgotten you, Critch. Commanding his ships to run away from battle, tail between his legs."

Starblade shook his head. "Ro…Admiral Lyon wouldn't run from a fight. Not his style." Slowly he realized that Canty had no idea that Lyon was on the _Maximillian_. Not sure if he shared this information, he remained silent, at least for the moment. "He'll have sent word to the _Maximillian_ to find a tactical advantage."

"They search for us?"

"Most likely."

"But not for you, no search party for the mighty Critch Starblade?"

"The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. Or the one, in this case. They're not about to risk the whole game for one person."

"But the statement is wrong, Critch. They have brainwashed you as surely as I am standing here! You are worth more than their entire fleet!"

The stoking of his ego felt good. Damn good, in fact, yet Starblade showed no outward sign of accepting it. Regardless, Canty continued. "They will not leave you, Critch…They are even now developing a plan to recover their 'lost crew member'. We must then do what we can to help them."

"You _want_ them to find us?"

"Their assistance, though primitive, may help us finish off this vessel. In addition, they may be very interested to hear about their great Admiral."

"…You want to kill him, don't you?" Starblade frowned, and Canty turned his back to him, a heavy breath exhaling from his lips.

"Critch…I simply want justice to come to him."

"Your Marconian justice?"

"No. He has no place in our universe, and would be ripped apart if he stepped one foot in our borders. Your courts will suffice. There was a time when I too considered myself willing to destroy him, and spent much time counting the ways I would separate the life from his body. But not now. I refocused my goals, and have nearly accomplished them. Soon I will succeed! But I require Lyon, Critch. I require justice to be done to the one man who deserves it more than anyone in either of our universes. The essences of the generations lost to us demand it!"

Starblade thought for a moment, leaning against the monitor bank, still images of the destruction done to the Marconian universe surrounding him. And on one monitor higher up, an image of Admiral Lyon, much younger, obviously from the records recovered from the probe. Why an image of Lyon would be on an eventually malevolent probe did not matter to him. He sighed. "Canty…I will answer the _Maximillian_'s call, if they call. I can't do anything else."

Canty nodded. "I expect no more of you than to do as your essence compels you. You will find the strength to do what must be done."

"You have a lot of faith in someone you've just met."

"We haven't 'just met', Critch. But there is time for tales later. This vessel must be slowed! Come with me; help me buy your ship some time…before we reach the point of no return…"

The lights of the _Maximillian_'s sickbay, designed to be both pleasing and calming, instead seemed harsh to Lieutenant Thomas, as she stood behind Admiral Lyon, An upset looking Doctor Alexander, and the bedridden Korjac, leader of the _Maximillian_'s Rapid Response Unit. Korjac was whispering something, appearing to have great pain as he did so. And from what Thomas knew of Klingons, it had to be great pain indeed for him to show it as he was doing. Lyon showed no emotion, however, except a brief image of hope crossing his face. Thomas had no idea what they were talking about, and did not wish to know anything but what this all was about, and why she was dragged here in the first place. She still had much work to be done in engineering, and would rather be doing something, anything but pretending to be patient.

Alexander, tired of watching so closely, moved over to her. "He should not have been woken up." He whispered gently. "But he insisted…"

"What's going on? Why am I here?" Thomas questioned the human doctor, who had no answers. He just sadly shook his head, turning his attention back to his patient, who rasped one more statement to Lyon, then fell back into unconsciousness. Alexander rushed to Korjac's side, affirmed that the Klingon was all right, and then turned back to Lyon, fuming.

"Do you realize what you could have done? His brain was already under enough pressure from the stress of recovery, and now you introduce this?"

Lyon nodded, almost seeming to ignore him. "Your patient is fine, Doctor. If you will excuse me, I have an important matter to discuss with Lieutenant Thomas."

Alexander held in what he was about to say, since it would likely get him removed from service as ship doctor. Instead, he mumbled things to himself as he turned back to Korjac, who seemingly was sleeping peacefully. Thomas started to speak to Lyon as he approached her, but she was cut off by his words.

"What is the current state of our engines, Lieutenant?"

"Eighty percent efficiency, Sir. We might be able to give you eighty-five, but…"

"Ninety." Lyon said it firmly, but so matter-of-factly that it seemed that today was just like any other day.

"Excuse me?" Thomas was, to say the least, flabbergasted.

"Walk with me, Lieutenant." Lyon walked through the exit of sickbay, and, after a moment, Thomas followed. As she caught up, he continued, as though they had kept pace the entire time.

"I need ninety percent. At least."

She shook her head. "Sir, with all due respect, eighty is pushing it. The crew is falling apart working the extra shifts, and dealing with Captain Septaric's death…"

He sensed she was holding in something. "Speak freely, Lieutenant."

"Well…We know you replaced her right before hand, but that's all we know. The crew, at least my crew, is upset. We're not getting any answers, here, and that's not making things easier on anyone. The response from a lot of people has been to blame her for her death. And the following damage to the Max. And if these orders are coming from you…I'm not sure if my crew is going to give your orders much credence, if you're just going to lead us into another hopeless fight."

A wave of anger rushed over Lyon, even as he remembered that it was he who invited her to speak openly. Still, his decisions, his very command, were being questioned, and it was far too late for that. He needed to reign in this growing mutinous fervor, if Blobbin was right, once and for all. He stopped, and turned to her, whispering savagely.

"All right then, Lieutenant, here is what you can tell your men. Right now, there is an object of unbelievable destructive power on its way to Earth. Its goal is to exterminate our entire species, and we are the one ship that has any chance of stopping it before it gets there! I need ninety percent, Lieutenant Thomas. To be honest, I need a hundred, but I understand that may not be possible. And if it costs me your men's lives, or even your life, to stop this thing, then that's what it's going to have to be."

She took a heavy breath. If this is what he wanted… "Ninety percent." She seethed.

"Good girl." He had half expected her to take a swing at him. Instead, she turned, quickly returning to her station in Engineering. There was far too much of this going around. With any luck, this battle would be successful, and then he could deal with the rest of the crew in his own time. He turned, tapping his badge. "Bridge, all power to the communications systems. We need to deliver a message…"

It had indeed taken all of her self control not to hit him. She believed that a truly good Commander would risk anything to save a single crewmember. Collateral damage was simply not an option that they should be willing to take. She shook it off. The pressure was getting to all of them. Perhaps, if they survived, there would be apologies coming from all involved.

And if they didn't, then she would be right in the end. Small consolation, but at this point, she would take what she could get.

Starblade watched the stars move by below him, the transparent walls not hiding any of the glory that was space. He was recognizing constellations occasionally now, his android brain processing them, matching them up. They were near their destination, less than a day's travel away. And Canty had apparently been successful in jury-rigging the automatic system, as they had slowed to nearly half their prior speed. He allowed a small hope that they would be able to finish the job, slowing the vessel down to nothing. And then…What would happen would happen.

He harbored no wish of returning to the Marconian universe to stay, as this was his home, the only one he could remember. However, he would like to visit, to see his people and relearn his history. He wondered, though, how he would be welcomed back. As a hero? As a traitor? Perhaps to remain here would be the safest course of action. That is if he wasn't kicked out of the fleet by Lyon, and the rest of the crew.

Almost as if summoned out of the air, Lyon's voice flooded the vessel, surrounding Starblade as if he was standing right next to him. He involuntarily jumped up as he listened to the call.

"_Maximillian_ to Lieutenant Commander Starblade. If you are able to answer, please respond. Commander Starblade, please respond."

Canty appeared from behind a console, almost as if he had been there the whole time. "Lyon?! Lyon is on the _Maximillian_?"

Starblade started to ask how he knew Lyon's voice, but then he remembered the probe, and that Canty, like him, could match up voices to an exact match of their real identity. He hesitated, but Canty continued.

"…I know you want to protect him, Critch. I promise you, no harm will come to him by my hand."

Starblade stared at him. "…Fine."

Canty's mouth twitched into a sort of a smile. "Second pad to the left, place your hand on it. All the non-automated tasks work like that. Just think what you want."

Starblade nodded, and crossed to the pad. He took a deep breath, and placed his hand upon the pad. It lit into a soft red, and he thought of what he wanted. To speak to his ship, to talk with Admiral Lyon.

Lyon crossed the bridge, pacing. Though they had been at this for two hours now, the communications systems drawing power even from life support itself, they had seen nor heard no sign of their wayward operations chief. Lieutenant Commander Kulas turned around in her chair. "Admiral…we don't even know if he's still alive…"

Lyon shook his head firmly. "I've learned many things. One of which, is never underestimate a determined android. He's alive." Kulas shook her head as she tapped a couple panels at her console, and Lyon spoke again.

"_Maximillian_ to Lieutenant Commander Starblade. If you are able to answer, please respond. Commander Starblade, please respond."

A moment passed. Two. Stars moved across the viewscreen. There would be no giving up, thought Lyon. They would locate Starblade. More than once he wished he had put a tracking beacon on him, within him, if he had ever thought to leave and search for the answers to the past. A past ripped from him by Lyon himself. But to do so would be to share that secret, and that was something that could not be revealed.

He was ripped from his thoughts of the past by an answer to his constant calls.

"_Maximillian_, this is Commander Starblade, please respond."

Lyon was caught by surprise, though he was expecting the response. He quickly recovered, even as the rest of the crew still showed signs of the shock. "Commander Starblade, good to see you're still alive."

"Likewise. I was expecting to hear Captain Septaric…"

There was certain coldness to his voice. Not surprising, Lyon supposed. If he had had his way, Starblade would never have gone to that vessel in the first place. But harsh words later. Certain things had to be dealt with.

"Captain Septaric is dead, Critch. I have taken command of the _Maximillian_ in her stead."

There was silence for a moment. "How…?"

"During the battle. It was quick."

Silence again. Lyon decided to get the subject back towards where Starblade was. "Critch, what have you discovered about the vessel?"

"…It is completely automated…but I am not alone. There are two other beings here. One of a race we have not seen…and one Marconian."

There was silence again, as Lyon paced. "Marconian? I'm not familiar…"

"You are, Rob. My race is Marconian. A race of machines, building generation after generation…but you knew about us, didn't you?"

"Critch…"

"The other Marconian has told me a lot about my people, and about what you did to them, how even as he's working to stop this thing you'd rather see it destroyed."

"I don't understa…"

Critch wouldn't let him finish. The rage that had been building ever since the initial confrontation with Lyon was bursting through his defenses, fueled by the new information fed him by his doppelganger. "The Probe, Rob! You sent a probe to their universe to destroy them!"

"I did no such thing! You are…"

The viewscreen fizzled, as did every screen throughout the _Maximillian_. Everyone turned to watch as Lyon's greatest fears were revealed. His past, in living color.

Images from the station, placed on the probe just before its launch. Images of Lyon working at his console. Images of the many video cameras throughout the station as Lyon controlled the probe too far, too fast, too deep into the alternate universe. All things Lyon had experienced.

But what he saw next, what they all saw next, haunted them for a very long time after that. The resulting energy backwash, the destruction of the cities, the deaths of countless Marconians. All blame solely on Lyon's head. Every member of the _Maximillian_ had either seen it that moment, or would see it over the next few minutes. And what was worse, Starblade's voice, carried throughout the entire ship, was not ceasing for an instant.

"You knew of their existence, and wanted them destroyed! And now look at what you've caused! The first ship was only sent because of that attack, a race defending itself! It was only destroyed because I destroyed it, costing me my entire past because of you! And this vessel, again because of you! My God, Rob, what have you done?"

Lyon shook his head. The past surrounding him, suffocating him. But this wasn't the way he remembered it. It couldn't have been this way…

Could it?

"NO!" He cleared it off. "You have been betrayed, Commander, but not by me. These are false images, playing off your forgotten past!"

"You didn't send a probe?"

"I did, under the orders of…"

"You didn't send it through to the Marconian universe?"

"I…"

Critch, sounding smug even in his empty victory, finished. "Then you admit it."

"Critch…there are things you cannot understand."

"There are things you don't think I can understand! You knew this, all of this, and you didn't tell me! Why? Why would you keep this from me? Why would you hide my past from me?"

"We didn't know who you were, Commander! We had no way of knowing if you were going to side with us or try to kill us! It's a miracle we even activated you!"

"But how…" Critch was silent, thinking, when it suddenly hit him. "My mind was fine when I got here…Until you erased it."

That was it, the secret revealed for all to hear. Angry and confused eyes stared at Admiral Lyon from all over the bridge. He sat in his chair, balling his fists angrily. "Commander Starblade…I did what I had to do."

"You destroyed everything I was!"

"And now look at what you've become! Brainwashed, spreading lies to this ship, _your_ ship, on the word of someone you've only just now met."

"We've met before, Lyon. Only because of you, I can't remember it!"

Lyon closed his eyes. No Admiral, no 'Rob', just 'Lyon'. The anger was too much. He gave the kill signal to a very confused Lieutenant Ayers. There was no more communication from the angry android. He turned to Kulas, who seemed to have a lot of emotions swimming across her face. She swallowed as his gaze fell upon her, and remembered her task.

"We have…we have the coordinates, their trajectory…"

"Very good. Set an intercept course. ETA?"

"Time of intercept, twenty two minutes." Commander Tamak spoke from his security station.

Lyon didn't acknowledge, just folded his hands in front of his face. He knew the other Admirals were already on their way to meet with him. He knew that the mutiny rumors would soon be more than just rumors at this point, if the crew chose to believe the allegations.

Lyon was scared, truly scared, as he stared at the stars that were restored to the viewscreen. If the images had not been faked, then he was a murderer. But one thing was true, and now the entire _Maximillian_ knew it as well.

This was his entire fault, and now there was only one chance to remedy it.

Even if it took his life.


	16. Violence

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Sixteen: Violence

Starblade backed away from the monitors quickly, unsure about what had just happened. One minute, he was attempting to have a civil discussion with Admiral Lyon about what he had uncovered, and the next…All control had been lost.

He glanced up at the screens, and saw the repeating scenes of destruction. The Marconian cities being laid to waste by the immense energy backwash, brought upon them by the invading probe, sent forth by Lyon himself. Whether accident or by design, the monitors told the tale: Lyon was guilty. Guilty of the assassination of uncountable numbers of beings, guilty of an unprovoked attack on a species that until that moment had no idea the Federation even existed! And because of everything that had transpired, Lyon was guilty of launching an interstellar war which had already cost the Gorn their

Homeworld, and very soon could cost all of humanity theirs as well.

Starblade was so troubled by this turn of events that he didn't notice "Canty" approach, unable to hide how pleased he was. "Well done, Critch!" The doppelganger said brightly. "I didn't know you had it in you!" Starblade again saw the strange creature by his side, but chose to ignore it for now. Far more important things were happening.

"I did that?"

"I told you, a lot of the systems here operate solely on brainwaves. Mostly, you have to touch them to activate, but when the feelings are strong enough..."

Starblade put his head down. "I didn't…There's too many unanswered questions about all of this. Lyon deserved a fair trial."

"Canty" shook his head. "This isn't exactly inadmissible evidence, Critch. It would have come out sooner or later. If not by us, then our rulers would have seen to it. Better now, so that all our cards are on the table. Besides, it has worked out beneficially for all of us."

They looked at each other, Starblade raising his head. "How do you mean?"

Canty nodded towards the monitors, which instantly showed images of the _Maximillian_ moving through the stars. "Lyon is coming to us, Critch. We are slowed sufficiently so that their…your ship will be able to overtake us in less than one of your hours. I'm sure that this was Lyon's plan in the first place. Find us, recover his precious commodity, and destroy all evidence of his evil."

"'Precious commodity'?"

"You, Critch. I told you of your worth, even though you do not realize it yet. But Lyon knows."

Starblade stared at the monitors. "No…No, Lyon's not stupid. He should know a direct assault on this ship would never work. They have no idea how this ship works. Hell, I have no idea how it works!"

"But still they come on the attack. Come, we have to move to the weapons array. If our entire defensive system is operational, we will have no time to collect Lyon and save your ship."

"We're going to…"

"If you want to save any more souls today, Critch, you must listen to me now. It is the only hope to save your adopted Federation…and the only way to preserve justice for your Admiral."

Starblade slowly nodded. "Fine." And he began to follow the strange pair as they moved away from the monitors, deeper into the ship, towards their next destination.

As with the rest of the _Maximillian_, the main Engineering bay was aglow in red from the constantly pulsing alert signs. Admiral Lyon had not brought them out of Red Alert since he had heard from Lieutenant Commander Starblade a short time ago. Though Lieutenant Thomas thought it impossible, this served to put her people even more on edge. There was no communication coming down from the bridge on exactly where they were going, and all this served to do was unnerve the crew. Especially since all suspected a battle was imminent, and thus far on this voyage, there had been too few victories.

As Thomas stalked through her rounds, still barely containing her anger at Lyon from the earlier encounter, she overheard snippets of conversations from her crewmembers. Apparently she wasn't the only one that was holding a grudge against the Admiral, and some had extended their hatred to the entire command staff. More than once she had noticed a general slowdown in work, and although they picked up their efforts right away whenever they noticed her, she knew that once she was out of sight they resumed their tepid pace.

She knew why they were doing it. It was all they could do against their new Commander that thus far had had no contact with them, save two events. One, the initial announcement on the death of Captain Septaric, and two, when the videos and voices of Lyon and Starblade erupted out of every monitor on the ship. She didn't understand what it was all about, and knew better than to leave her station to find out. She was quite sure that Lyon was not going to be straightforward with her, and with all the work that his actions had caused, she couldn't leave her post for anything.

As she crossed upstairs, and to an overhang, she looked down onto her staff. As she watched their work, taking a brief moment to assemble her thoughts, she noticed an ensign off to her right, not doing much of anything at all. Certainly not doing what he had been tasked to do. Thomas moved to him quickly, before he could make a fake attempt at getting back to work.

"Didn't I give you a job to do, Ensign?"

"Err, Yes, Ma'am!"

"Is there something more important on your mind?"

"I…No, Ma'am!"

Her eyes went red with fire. "Out with it."

"…Ma'am, what are we doing? We can't fight that thing again! We barely made it out last time! They're going to get us all killed!" As the ensign finished, Lieutenant Thomas looked around her, noticing that the nearby workers were agreeing with him. She closed her eyes tightly. Better get this over with.

"Ensign…Unless you can do your job, you are going to die. All of you!" She gestured around her. "All of you will die unless you do your duty! This is not a negotiation, this is not a game. You swore an oath to follow your commanding officer's orders no matter what they were. If you disagree, then when this is over, we will deal with it. If any of us are still here. If you can't deal with this, then report to the brig. I have no time for this. Back to work!" She barked, as the embarrassed crewmen returned to their frantic tasks, a marked increase in their speed. She moved away from the ensign, and also returned to what she had been on the way to accomplish. She knew she had most likely accomplished little. Like a small bandage on a gaping wound, it was only a matter of time.

On the bridge, Admiral Lyon sat uncomfortably in his Captain's chair. He knew T'Kill and Blobbin were standing behind him, waiting impatiently for his attention. He knew this because T'Kill had been clearing his throat for the past twenty-five seconds, and Blobbin had formed one giant finger, which had been tapping the back of his head for just as long. Despite the annoyance, knowing what they were there for made ignoring them a much better idea than confronting them. But, at the same time, he knew he had to reestablish his command. As Blobbin's finger neared his head again, Lyon quickly reached around, grabbing it, and bending it back. Blobbin, having no bones, felt no pain, but he acted it.

"Owww…what'd ya do that for!" He hopped up and down.

"For the annoyance. I assume you two want to speak with me?" Lyon was short with them, as the clock was ticking.

"Immediately." T'Kill was equally short.

Lyon nodded, glancing around the bridge. "Five minutes." In a louder voice, he spoke to the bridge. "Commander Kelvok, you have the bridge." Kelvok nodded quickly as the three Admirals headed off.

Once in the room, with the door closed behind them, T'Kill could hold nothing back. "Rob…What the hell did you do?"

Lyon calmly sat at his desk. "If you're here to throw me out based on that…forgery, you should consider the source."

Blobbin shook his head, his silver-mercury form flowing as he did so. "Starblade? He's been best buddies with you since you woke him up!"

"Yes…But one thing he said was true. His memory was erased, by me. The object he crashed through our universe on is identical to the one that is invading now." He folded his hands, not yet allowing either of them to question him. "There are two possibilities. He meant for the ship to explode, making it seem like an accident…Or the first vessel was designed to do exactly what the second is accomplishing. We know there's at least one other thing with him…It's not a large leap to imagine that Starblade has recovered his memories, and has joined with the other being to finish what he started."

T'Kill ran a hand down his face, assembling his thoughts as Lyon finished his statement, and then jumped in. "I don't doubt something like that is the case…but explain what we all saw! Those cities! If that's some sort of forgery, as you say, then it's a hell of a good one!"

Lyon shrugged. "Different universe, different technologies. I did send a probe while at the observatory, it's possible it crossed over successfully and that's where the images of myself came from. But I highly doubt anything I ever did caused what we saw."

"Then you admit it's a possibility!"

Lyon was silent, conceding the point. "Anything is possible, Turock."

Blobbin rolled across the room, thinking. "Rob, you're giving up to easily on the kid. Give him a chance!"

"We're out of time, Blobbin!" Lyon rose. "We have one chance, one real chance, to end this right here, save Earth and everything with it. I'm not going to sit here and let everything die because nobody else wants to do anything about it! This discussion is over. Turock, assemble your ships. Blobbin, prepare your weapons. That's it."

"Rob…" T'Kill shook his head, then walked slowly out of the room. A second later, a quiet Blobbin followed, not without a final tongue sticking out of his mouth, however. Again, Lyon was alone. Alone with what he knew was true, and what had to be done.

Starblade followed "Canty", along with the doppelganger's strange creature, down the winding staircase that "Canty" had assured him led to the vessel's firing center. There was some doubt if even the two of them together could stop the firing solution, but Starblade was growing more confident that there was something that could be done. "Canty" seemed to be in high spirits, which Starblade took to be because of the new remote possibility that this thing could be stopped, and of course that Lyon would be brought to justice. There was much to be excited about, apparently.

There was still a lot that he didn't understand, but strangely the most pressing thing on his mind right now was the creature that trailed "Canty" down the stairs. Since it looked as though these stairs were going to go on forever, even with their quickened pace, there seemed to be time to clear up what everyone's role in this adventure was.

"So…what's with him?" Starblade started slowly, realizing quickly how little he truly knew.

"'Him'?"

"Your friend there. Karey…or something or other."

"Ahhh…My Ka-Ki-Ri."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"Canty" chuckled. "He's my slave, Critch."

Starblade stopped in his tracks. "Slave?"

"Come on, time is short. I forget you have experienced so much, and remembered so little. Generations before you or I, there was a great war between the Marconians and the Ka-Ki-Ri. Countless generations were lost in the battles, but in the end we were triumphant."

Starblade continued, unbelieving in what he was hearing. "So you took what was left to control?"

"Canty" shook his head. "Please understand, Critch, we are deeply civilized. The Ka-Ki-Ri offered themselves as penance for their transgressions. Their entire race gave themselves to us. And now, here we are, both societies intertwined."

"Generations later? So the current Ka-Ki-Ri…"

"Were born into slavery, you would say. But you must understand the differences between our universes, and you must remember. Does it mean nothing to you that after your apparent death, your Ka-Ki-Ri died of grief? They live but to serve us! Isn't that right, Karey?" The creature gave a silent nod, which Starblade thought was done rather sadly, but "Canty" took it as an affirmation. "You'll relearn your past. We are alone in the universe…"

Starblade stopped again. "Wait…You had said Marconians were the only race in our universe…Now you're alone, but with another race…"

"I meant the we as in our two races…The two races are so intertwined that many Marconians refer to the two as one…You must stop looking for subterfuge, Critch, I assure you what I am saying is correct."

Starblade wasn't so sure, but didn't get an opportunity to continue the conversation, as "Canty" had reached the bottom floor. "Enough, now! We are here! Karey, stay here. Now, Critch!" He pointed, and Starblade stared at a flat panel. "Canty" moved to the side, and placed his hands on an illuminated screen on a wall. As Starblade approached the panel, he noticed it lit up with a soft blue.

"Quickly, Critch! Put your hands on the panel!" As "Canty" was touching the panel, they heard a sudden rumbling. Starblade did as he was told as the noise increased. It seemed to be coming from behind them. He increased pressure on the panel, just as "Canty" did, when suddenly the source of the noise was revealed.

The _U.S.S. Maximillian_, coming in from whatever warp speed they had been traveling at, had arrived. Slowing to just above Canty_'s_ ship's speed, it moved right overhead, so close to their position that he could almost count the rivets on it's bottom portion. The vibrations from the rushing noise rustled Starblade's hair a bit as he couldn't help the feeling of awe in his gut. Despite the glittering crystal that he was on now, he still thought the Sovereign-class starship was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

The _Maximillian_ continued to slow, until they had matched the vessel's speed. With his hands firmly affixed to the panel, Starblade concentrated on not firing. He could only hope Canty was doing the same thing. Risking a glance, he looked at his identical twin, and saw him also looking at the starship. However instead of awe, he looked at it with a twinge of confusion.

"What're they doing? They're just sitting there…"

"Match speed, hold position."

The vessel's position had been mapped, thanks to Lieutenant Commander Starblade's taking the bait, and it was child's play for the _Maximillian_ to eventually locate them. Now that they had, the hard part began. Admiral Blobbin had taken his place at the Intelligence section, while Admiral T'Kill was at Starblade's old post, Operations. Lyon was back in the Captain's chair, giving orders, overseeing the operation. Everything had to be perfect.

They now hung in perfect synchronization with the vessel, a few kilometers in front of it. Thankfully, there had been no firing from the vessel yet, though Lyon knew that would soon change with his next move.

He turned to Blobbin. "Admiral, are we ready?"

"I guess we are, _Admiral_." He stressed this heavily, unaccustomed with being referred to by his rank.

T'Kill didn't expect a question, and he didn't receive one, as he merely glanced over the efficiency reports coming in throughout the ship. None of them were anywhere near where they should be. T'Kill knew that the crew was tired, and many were angry. He hoped there'd be enough of a crew left after this to stage a mutiny if there had to be one.

"Activate Errsedorian shielding." Blobbin said, a hint of pride in his voice, as he sent the message to the crewmembers tasked with carrying out these orders. Despite the short time, the shielding, as well as some of the weaponry, had been upgraded. There having been no other choice was always a great motivator, Blobbin thought to himself, the familiar smile returning to his face.

Throughout the hull of the ship, the two versions of shielding came online, activating on top of each other. A layer of beam shielding, followed by a layer of projectile shielding, followed by another pair of layers came to life, adapted from Blobbin's own technology on the ship that had got him to the Federation, albeit very slowly. (Errsedorians weren't known for their speed.) A dense 'heavy' shield activated around the bridge. Lyon hoped Lieutenant Thomas was up to the challenge, as the new shielding caused an immense drain on energy levels throughout the ship. As he noticed the lights beginning to dim, he ordered emergency lights throughout the ship. The crew would now have to operate in the dark, but at least they would be well protected.

Lyon again turned to Blobbin. "Weapons."

Blobbin seethed, adding an "I'll 'weapons' you." Under his breath as he tapped a couple of buttons with a large appendage he had formed. He then swallowed, gulped, and said. "All weapons ready, M'lord."

Lyon, having learned by now to tune him out, simply nodded.

"Fire."

The two androids watched curiously as a blue light moved out of the rear of the _Maximillian_, heading directly for the vessel. Canty shook his head.

"They can't be serious! They can't even scratch us!"

The light reached the vessel. Starblade was about to agree with his twin, when the torpedo exploded in a massive blast.

The explosion fed upon itself, becoming larger with every passing moment. Starblade purely on instinct threw himself behind a table, having to remove his hands from the panel as he did so. Canty flattened himself against a wall. The fireball moved past them. Catwalks and equipment that Starblade couldn't recognize were upended and flew around, one narrowly missed removing the table that Starblade had hid behind, along with the android himself. As the fiery tornado passed, leaving disaster in its wake, Starblade looked over the table, at the _Maximillian_…and at the two additional torpedoes heading straight for him.

"Ah, crap."

The fire from the explosions appeared to engulf the entire top half of the vessel. From his vantage point in the Captain's chair, Lyon could see pieces begin to fly off. He punched the arm of his chair in victory as he called his next orders out.

"Maintain speed! Fire at will!"

The barrage of the shots striking the vessel did not abate for a second, and Starblade had retreated to a safer location behind a bank of monitors, and even there he knew he was not completely safe. He looked over, saw Canty continue to hold on to the panel, which thus far seemed to have obeyed his commands, as there was no return fire coming from the vessel. As he watched, a torpedo lofted over his head, and moved far within the ship, invisible to the _Maximillian_. It ignited, and the ship shook with a mighty lurch. A fireball a mile high erupted out of the ship's midsection, causing Canty to curse something in the Marconian language. Starblade called over the noise of the oncoming fire.

"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT?"

"It hit a power core! Hold on!" Starblade was knocked off his feet by another sudden movement, and he hit the ground hard. He shook it off, and yelled back.

"Why are we moving like that?"

"The ship's automated systems are taking control! There's nothing I can do!"

The vessel had begun a long predetermined series of evasive maneuvers, controlled by a mixture of simulations and generations of painstakingly programmed technology. It rolled around one torpedo, and moved away at a quick pace before it could be struck by the weapon. Despite how incredibly large it was on the inside, at least as Starblade could see, the ship moved as though it was a hundredth it's size, dancing around the torpedoes, preventing further damage to itself.

As it did this, Canty rose to a standing position from where the constant G-forces had thrown him down. He slowly regained his footing, and then advanced with a snarl to the panel he had previously been occupying. He placed a hand on it, and pressed in with new force. As he did this, lights came on all round him, and then throughout the entire compartment. Critch rushed back to his panel. "What now?"

"Defensive systems coming online! I'm trying to stop them! Help me!"

The vessel began to fire its heavy beams at the _Maximillian_, which began to duck and weave throughout the shots, though not nearly as quickly or graceful as the shots before had been. The great ship's dance ended quickly, as it received its first blow. The beam struck amidships, and the bridge shook with the blow.

"SHIELDS HOLDING, CAP'N!" Blobbin yelled as sparks erupted from an unmanned console to the left. The shielding, combined with the stress from the intense weapons fire, was rapidly draining the _Maximillian_'s energy reserves. Indeed, even the emergency lights were fading, and many essential decks were now in complete darkness, terrifying the crewmen within.

"What's happening to my power?" Lyon calmly asked, as the ship suffered another blow, this time to it's bottom decks, as the vessel calmly swung underneath it, evading another torpedo as it did so.

T'Kill answered before Blobbin could. "I told you! Federation ships can't handle Errsedorian technology!"

"They can too!" Blobbin called out, indignant. "If you people would hurry up and figure out a damn particle dump, we wouldn't be having these problems!"

T'Kill, even in the midst of battle, would have been quite happy to continue the argument, if they weren't silenced in that instant by a larger, horrible crash that seemed to surround them, as though space itself had decided to fold up around them. Lyon stood, as the viewscreen began to show tears running through it. "What the hell…?"

"Damn damn damn damn damn damn DAMN!" Blobbin uttered, getting ever louder. Lyon swiveled on his heels to face him as the mercury being continued. "The _Maximillian_ can't hold the beam shields up any more! The layers are folding up on each other."

There was a large burst of static then, bursting out over the intercom, and everyone that was still conscious had to cover their ears for fear of losing their hearing. It faded out quickly, and only Lieutenant Commander Ayers had the presence of mind to record the feed, running it through the computers at her comm. station almost immediately. "It's Engineering!" She called out, suddenly more frightened than she could remember being.

T'Kill nodded, noting the readings on his console. Shaking his head, and with a deep breath, said two simple words.

"Coolant leak."

It wasn't any great surprise to Lieutenant Thomas there was a leak. The real surprise was that it had taken this long, considering the stress the ship was under. Considering how outmatched they were, with the vessel's powerful weapons, it was enough of a miracle that they were still here to fight. Combined with the incredible energy drain of the newly-added Errsedorian weapons… There was only one logical conclusion she could come to, and she wasn't even a Vulcan!

It started slowly, a stray shot striking the ship's underside. A power surge directly through the cables to Engineering, and a small conduit near the warp core breached. It was a small leak at the beginning, not nearly enough to cause an evacuation, or worse, ejecting the core, but it was growing.

"GET OUT! GET TO SAFETY!" Thomas yelled out to her shipmates as they ran, even as she moved farther away from the exit. At this point, they could still seal off Engineering, but at the cost of almost all power to the ship, leaving them defenseless.

There was one other option, which carried with it an insane amount of risk. A complicated procedure to bypass the ruptured conduit entirely, leaving the _Maximillian _enough power to escape, or at least to make a last stand worth singing a Klingon ballad. There was only one person in the bay left now, everyone else having escaped a safe distance. And she was the most qualified person on this ship to do what she had to do next.

She began to cough as she laid down, putting herself into position to make the repair. The radiation seeping from the conduit had begun to affect her, and she knew far too well what would transpire next. But there was nothing else she could do, nothing else she would do. For this ship, she would give her all.

She pulled out a hydro spanner, careful not to drop it in the warp core as an associate of hers had done in the past, and began to work. The sweat formed on her brow as her stomach churned. The conduit began to heal, but not as fast as Thomas had hoped. Her skin gradually turned to red, her hands became clammy, and she was having difficulty concentrating as she finished her work. Her eyelids drew heavy, and as the long seconds moved by she forgot about any pain, and decided she would take a long nap when this was over.

Lieutenant Amy Armstrong Thomas finished the last connection, saving the warp core and maintaining what little power the _Maximillian_ had left, and had one last thought escape her brain as she succumbed to the need for rest. As the hydro spanner hit the floor, her hand following closely behind, she wondered if this would finally satisfy Admiral Lyon.

"COME ON! HELP!" Canty yelled out at Starblade, as the doppelganger's palms pressed ever harder on the panels. Small indents were being made in the strange metallic material he was pressing so hard, but it didn't seem to be hard enough. The vessel was still firing on the _Maximillian_, and Starblade could see that his ship had lost shields in several sections. He tried to do as Canty asked, but found that no matter how much he concentrated on stopping the fire, the intensity of the beams only increased, as though the weapons were programmed to do the exact opposite of what he was doing…

Starblade stopped, and stared around the room. After a moment, wherein Canty had stopped calling to him and instead concentrated on his own work, Starblade found what he was looking for, the piece in the puzzle. One monitor, instead of showing the battle in progress, was showing what appeared to be an advanced targeting array. Certain points on the array lit up, and he recognized where the points were relating to. They were where the beams were to hit when they fired. And they also corresponded exactly to what Canty was pressing on his panel.

The realization hit Critch like a shot from a phaser rifle, and he stared incredulously at his double… Just as Canty formed a hand into a fist, and struck the panel in the dead center.

The vessel swung around, and above the nearly crippled _Maximillian_, which had stopped firing the one weapon that had done any damage since the encounter had begun. As the _Maximillian _slowly began to rise, an attempt to present its strong side to the vessel, in order to stave off another blow, the vessel begin to emit a yellow glow from the bottom spike on its crystal form. Immediately thereafter, a beam, slightly larger than the white ones that had fired on the _Maximillian_ before, rushed out of a newly created hole. The beam hit the _Maximillian_ directly in the center, just north of the bridge. Finding no shields, no protection of any kind, the beam speared right through the ship, carving quickly through the decks, exposing them to the depths of space. The beam went through the main holodeck controls and bays, and the viewing lounge. As the beam stopped, the _Maximillian_ lost what power it had left. Stabilizers went out throughout the ship, and it began a diving roll, pitching forward, mournful vengeful cries reaching out through the destroyed decks, all awaiting the next and final blow…

Canty_'s_ face showed the beginnings of a smile, as he drew his hand back again. Just as he began to throw the final punch, he was thrown off guard by a sudden strong push by Starblade, who had dived against him. The punch missed, and Canty, surprised, fell to the floor. Starblade quickly threw his hands on the panel, and thought with every fiber of his being, yelling it out as he did so, "MOVE AWAY!"

As the conscious members of the _Maximillian_ awaited their final fate, the crystal vessel suddenly pitched in the direction directly opposite from its former heading, and jumped into warp, accelerating faster than any in this universe thought possible. Lyon slowly rose from where he had fallen, trying to get back to the Captain's chair, before he discovered that a large beam had fallen on top of it. As Blobbin and T'Kill regained consciousness, Lyon gingerly reached out to the Comm. chair, before recoiling at the sight of Lieutenant Ayers' seared skin. Her right ear was completely gone, the wound cauterized. Her Communication skills, renowned throughout the fleet, were lost with the ear. She collapsed to the floor, moaning in pain, as Lyon fell forward onto the switch. Hoarsely, he called out to Engineering, for Lieutenant Thomas to give him a status report. There was no answer.

The vessel moved through space, and Starblade was satisfied at his work. He didn't have time to wonder about Canty, however, as a sudden blow to his back left him paralyzed suddenly. Starblade crumpled on the floor, moaning in pain he didn't even know he could feel, as his double rose above him. Starblade tried to shake off the pain, but could only force one word out of his mouth as he tried desperately to recover. "Why?"

Canty sighed heavily, and tapped another panel. "I have struck what you would consider your central nervous system. You will recover." As he spoke, clear metallic walls rose up around Starblade. They formed a point at the top, coming together. He could now just see the outline of his doppelganger, but he could hear him fine, and he guessed that Canty could hear him as well.

"We…You were trying to stop this thing!"

"I had hoped you would remember before it came to this, Critch."

Starblade struck the walls, finding them impenetrable. "Remember what? You're betraying your race, your…"

Canty turned angrily. "I'm betraying _nothing!_ It is you who betrayed us!" Then he stopped, and laughed. "For years, when I was first learning to function…I wanted to be you! Be everything you were! You were an idol to us all!"

"And you went against everything I supposedly stood for!"

"No, Critch, I honor it more than you can ever know."

Starblade was breathing heavy, his emotions flowing through him. "By embracing the military sect? By commanding this thing here to destroy planets?"

Canty laughed again. "Critch…I honor you, and the memory you may never regain."

"What…What do you mean?"

"I told you of the Military sect leader, the android that commanded entire generations in conquest."

"…The sadistic…"

"Critch…I didn't want to tell you until we had recovered your memories."

"…Tell me what?" Starblade began to back away from the panels.

"Critch…You are that leader."

The world stopped around him, and Starblade could only utter a weak, "What?"

"Only one man was brave enough to control the first weapon, Critch. You. You brought it to this universe, and nearly paid the price. I watched you leave at the great rally, and vowed to carry on in your footsteps after your 'death'. And now here we are!" He knew Critch could not see him gesture about the area, but he did so anyway. "Together at last! Together to finish what we have started! The annihilation of all mankind! Revenge for our brothers and for the souls lost!"

Critch could only whisper, could not think, only falling backward, sliding down the cold metallic walls. "No…It can't…no…"

Canty shook his head in sadness. "And now look at you, Critch. But all is not lost, and you will recover yourself in time. You have cost us hours, but it only delays the inevitable. And when we recover your lost self, we will return victorious to the universe we left behind in anarchy and chaos! We will unite all Marconia like none have ever thought possible!"

Canty then drew closer to the walls, whispering so that only Starblade could hear, although the only other being in the room was the android's slave. "And if you do not join with me…I'll kill you myself." He rose again, and gestured for his slave to guard the walls. Then Canty climbed the stairs again, leaving the android to silently stare into nothingness, and slowly realize who he truly was.


	17. Regret

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Seventeen: Regret

Considering everything that had transpired in the last few desperate moments, the main Engineering deck was surprisingly calm and pristine. The overloading conduits had been bypassed and rerouted before any serious harm was done to the ship itself, and with the absence of any further battles, the lights were back to their former brilliance. In fact, the only difference between now and any other time in the _Maximillian_'s main Engineering deck was the lack of people. No officers, crew members, or workers of any kind were on duty, save one man who stared straight ahead at a single spot. The silence filled the deck, as an overbearing stillness fell upon the floor, joining a single white sheet there.

The body of Lieutenant Amy Armstrong Thomas lay calmly on the cold floor, not that it mattered the temperature, as she was long past caring about things of that nature. Her actions had saved the _Maximillian_. Indeed, it was because of her that the Sovereign-class starship had one last chance to continue on and face the malicious vessel. Once again, they had been given a fighting chance. This was of no consequence to the man who stared endlessly at her body, seeking forgiveness that would never come.

The past few hours swam behind Admiral Lyon's eyes. He could not care about what had or had not happened in his relative youth. Proving one way or the other what had really happened was beyond his present facilities. Focusing on the here and now was the only thing he could do…And right now, his chosen focus was Lieutenant Thomas.

The last words between them haunted Lyon's thoughts. Words of anger, and how Lyon would be willing to sacrifice her for his ship. Eerily prophetic, he thought to himself, and he breathed heavily.

He shut his eyes tightly, trying to imagine her last moments. It was the least he could do, having placed her in the position that had led to her death. Forcing her to lead this already damaged department as the _Maximillian_ slipped into yet another worthless and unwinnable battle…Only now did Lyon realize the folly of his actions, only now coming to the conclusion that he had tried to use the fight as a distraction against the allegations levied against him by his former friend…But he deserved it, didn't he? He opened his eyes again, raising them to the ceiling. Removing Lieutenant Commander Starblade's memories without so much as giving the android a chance had doomed them both to this current strife. Perhaps if he had been more forthcoming…Perhaps even telling Starblade about how it was because of him that the android had arrived here in the first place. But if Starblade was correct…If his actions years upon years ago had caused the end of so many beings…

Then Lyon deserved this, and far more, for risking the entire Federation. Putting himself back where he belonged, he lowered his head, refocusing his gaze on the white sheet, covering Thomas's body loosely. This area should have been cleared some time ago, he realized, as the maintenance crews and Engineering staff had already moved to other decks. But the Medical team was still busy in sickbay with the casualties of the recent times. And every casualty indirectly because of Lyon himself. Every dead body and hurt soul weighing upon Lyon more and more as continued its slow march. If he didn't feel as if he deserved it so much, he could have screamed. Instead, he continued his vigil, as he felt at the absolute least he owed this much to her. So engrossed was he at his task that he didn't even notice his fellow Admirals entering Engineering, or taking their places at his side, until T'Kill cleared his throat.

"She stayed at her post to the end…She saved every person on this ship, Rob."

Lyon nodded, continuing his stare. Blobbin's face morphed into an angry glare.

"Are you gonna just stand there all day and lose another ship?" Lyon didn't register the sting that he felt from the reminder. He simply took in a breath, and then let it out slowly. T'Kill's face joined Blobbin's in a glare, though for T'Kill, it was something that he had grown accustomed to.

"Rob…You know what we're here for."

Lyon nodded. "Yes."

"Don't make this more difficult than it has to be."

"I don't intend to, Turock."

Blobbin appeared to spit on the deck, but the mercury essence quickly returned to the Errsedorian. "Pity."

Lyon continued. "I am resigning from my post, Turock. It appears that I am unfit for command."

T'Kill let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in. "We don't think you're unfit, Rob…" Blobbin scoffed. "At least I don't…but the situation has gotten out of control, you're too closely entwined to all of this…"

"Am I to be confined to the brig?"

Blobbin shook his head. "Only if you put up a fight….C'mon, Rob, it's your ship, put up a fight!"

"No, Blobbin." The mercury form lowered his head sadly as Lyon answered. "There's been too much fighting already." He turned to T'Kill. "Not that it matters, but I recommend Lieutenant Commander Kelvok to fill the position…at least temporarily."

T'Kill nodded. "All we may have left is temporarily, Rob. I doubt an entire fleet will have much better luck than us at stopping this thing."

"I agree…but maybe some fresh eyes will put some light on this."

"I'll get to it. Admiral Lyon…I officially remand you to quarters until the conclusion of these events…or until we settle this, one way or the other."

Lyon saluted T'Kill, then nodded to an upset looking Blobbin, and began his long walk through the decks of the _Maximillian_, past his shipmates, and to his quarters, where he hoped to think very hard about where his life had taken him. He did not expect he would ever walk out of his room again.

Blobbin gestured towards the departed Admiral. "Sure keeping him to his own recognizance is a good idea? I don't like the looks of him…"

"I won't see him in the Brig, Blobbin…If he's going to die, he can do it a free man…like the rest of us." Blobbin uttered under his breath that he wasn't a man, as T'Kill called to the medical team to collect Lieutenant Thomas.

It was impossible to tell how long Lieutenant Commander Starblade sat in the darkness, his back pressed up against his makeshift prison. He had turned off his chronal sensors, indeed had turned off most of his external abilities, and now was only focusing on his thoughts, and his self. His mind had betrayed him, and everything that he had ever thought he was, or could have been, was lost. Now where before there had been only mystery and secrets lay the truth, a past of death and destruction, of murder and chaos. How many souls had been ripped apart by his treachery? How many lives lost because of his actions?

Lyon had been right, of course, which didn't really surprise him. The good reasons for not allowing him to remember his past were numerous and uncountable. If he had awoken, his memories intact, he would have easily torn apart every crewman on the station. Undoubtedly he would have eventually accomplished his mission, which he assumed to be the destruction of the human race, and the Federation along with it, leaving the pathway clear for an invasion force from his home universe. Lyon had given him life, given him a new purpose, and in return Starblade had now spat on Lyon's generosity, and everything he had stood for. And at the end of it all, now sat alone, cut off from everyone and everything familiar to him, and left here in the darkness, on this truly alien vessel.

He didn't bother to raise his head to peer out through the walls of his cell. Many times he had tried to locate his captor or his assistant, and many times he had been left searching in the dark. It really didn't bother him that he couldn't find them. After spending the years since his awakening searching for answers that seemingly would never come, now he dreaded the next discovery. How many more disasters would he be responsible for? How much more would he be able to stand?

There were still many questions that flooded the android's mind. Lyon's role in this adventure was still unclear. How he had arranged to intercept the original force, as if he had known of its existence, and why he had kept it a secret for so long. Was it shame? Pride? Or something deeper… After everything that had come out now, of everything he now knew he owed Admiral Lyon, the benefit of the doubt seemed such a small thing to give him.

There was a slight creaking around him as Starblade felt the ship finally shudder to a stop. As he looked beyond the endless catwalks, overhangs, and equipment that dominated this vessel, he could make out the stars, very still, gleaming and illuminating their surroundings as they had for millions of years. Who would be masters of this universe when the stars died, he wondered. From all indications, the Marconians would first wipe out their main opposition in the area, and then move to the surrounding areas, and eventually overtake everything. It would take time, perhaps time beyond even the life spans of these stars burning brightly. But what is time to a machine?

Starblade swallowed out of habit, and shuddered when he realized how he knew what the Marconian stratagem was to be. Not because it was a lucky guess, or some kind of insight. It was only because it was what he himself would do, and that realization chilled him to the core, despite his emotions only being the byproducts of superior technology.

It sickened him to think that he would even be capable of the sort of acts that he knew he had done. The atrocities that must have gone on for his lifetime…How could a race that evolved in such a way have literally built themselves into this? What was their goal in doing so?

Starblade was tired of questions. Tired of answers, tired of life. He simply put his head back down, and tried once again to clear his head of anything and everything. But instead, all he was left with was a louder creaking and a faraway engine powering up, readying the vessel for its final journey into the heart of the Federation. And on the inside, he was left with an eroding soul, his essence fading away, replaced by a deadness and deep regret for actions unnamable.

Minutes passed. Perhaps hours. The same endless dullness that had seeped into Starblade's mind returned and expanded itself until there was only it and nothing else. It had overcome all sound, all surroundings, all of his self. An android sat in an endless darkness, and there was nothing more.

Eventually, however, there was an end to the stillness. A great jolt occurred, sending him to the floor. Landing hard on his side, he looked out, past the brown equipment, past the ship itself, and saw space. The stars began to move slowly, and then they began to pick up speed.

He worked it out in his head. The repairs had been made. The vessel would now return on its original heading, making a direct strike at the heart of the Federation.

Earth.

And there was nothing he could do about it. Banging a hand on the hard floor, he sat back up. He glanced yet again at his prison, gauging the possibility of escape for the thousandth time, plans running through his head at the speed of light and just as quickly being shot down. Brief flashes of hope faded from his eyes, and he let out a deep sigh. His head dropped again as he leaned back against the wall, and began to return to his darkness.

The darkness did not come, not this time. He was awakened out of it yet again, but not by any movement. A noise came from nearby, growing closer.

Starblade looked up, not welcoming any more intrusions. What would be the next revelation that was sprung upon him?

After peering out at the ship for a moment, he recognized the site of Canty's 'Ka-Ki-Ri', the slave Karei, which Starblade had decided was a much more alien sounding pronunciation than 'Carey'. The beast lumbered down the stairway, and assessed his surroundings, before turning his gaze upon Starblade. The creature had four eyes, two on each side of its face, the leftmost eyes pushed up a bit because of the protruding nostril. All of these eyes were staring at the defeated android, who did not want to give him the courtesy of even acknowledging his presence.

It spoke then, and it was a second before Starblade's translator could ascertain what the speech was. It still came across broken and jumbled, but recognizable. While he did not turn his head toward Karei, he was listening intently.

"Master say…say ship moving again. Ship on course." His short job evidently done, the creature turned to leave Starblade to his solitude.

A beat passed before he could will himself to answer the Ka-Ki-Ri. "To Earth. To kill everything there." It was more of a statement than a question, but it was enough to stop the creature for a moment. There was intelligence there, he knew. But was there enough to reach? There wasn't any hope yet…Just an idea.

"Master…doing what Master must."

"Why? We know where Lyon is! There's no reason for this to go on any longer!"

Karei still stood with his back to him even as the android rose to face the creature, though he knew challenging Karei would likely be a useless gesture. "Master…not share information with Karei. Karei only Ka-Ki-Ri. Not Marconian."

"It's information you need to know, Karei! You're part of this! He's going to kill every life on Earth, and you're going to be his accomplice! Whether he likes it or not, you're equals!"

A nerve was struck, and Karei quickly turned to Starblade, moving far quicker than anything that size had a right to. It moved angrily, as though to strike the android, forgetting for an instant that the walls that kept Starblade in also kept everything else out. Its words, however, were able to cut straight through.

"Starblade never care about Ka-Ki-Ri! Starblade destroy, enslave Ka-Ki-Ri, destroy all else! Invade universes, kill all else! Starblade's Ka-Ki-Ri died for Starblade! When Starblade start caring for Ka-Ki-Ri? When Starblade start caring for any?"

The android stepped back, the words of the creature cutting deeper than any phaser blast ever could. So he was responsible for this too. Next, he assumed, he would find that he was responsible for the creation, and eventual destruction of all the universes. He shook his head, trying to shake off the guilt. There was a time and a place for such things, and it certainly wasn't now.

"I…I didn't know." Trying to come up with something to say, his voice and mind were both found wanting. Karei didn't give him a chance to recover.

"'Didn't know'? How does Starblade not know? Starblade cause! Starblade destroy! Starblade was there!"

Starblade stared defiantly at the creature. "THIS Starblade wasn't there. THIS Starblade can't remember anything since he got here. I signed up with the first group that worked to stop things exactly like this!"

Karei stopped, and then shook a small amount, as though it was a alien shrug. "Starblade not excused, Starblade never can be excused."

"I'm not asking for that! I…" Starblade stopped, assembling his words. "…This can't continue, you know it can't. I need a chance, one chance to make it right, to make something right!"

Karei began to walk away from him. "No chance. Trick. Not going to trick Karei."

"No…" Starblade slumped to the ground, a hand on the wall. "No trick…" He thought quickly, as quick as he could. "Will you let humanity become the next Ka-Ki-Ri?"

Karei stopped again, just as he had reached the stairwell. Starblade kept the pressure on. "Let them be enslaved just as your people were? Murdered? Destroyed? An entire race wiped out as though they never existed? Your race may be dying, Karei, but you're still here, and you still have a mind of your own. Help me. Help me stop this now, before it escalates!" The android rose to his feet, as Karei turned to face him yet again. "Karei, I don't know what I did. Hell, I don't even know who I was. But I can do something. I have to know the truth, and you're the only one that can get me out of here so I can find out what the hell is going on!"

Karei seemed to be fighting with himself. "Can't….Ka-Ki-Ri cannot disobey the master!"

"Who's the master, Karei? The man who possesses this ship, or the man that built it? This is my ship. I'm sure I would've been smart enough to give myself an out if anything turned against me. You won't be discovered. Just tell me where to go."

Karei approached him, almost in spite of himself. "Starblade…Trick…"

"Karei, I swear to whatever God your people believe in, you get me out of here and I'll turn this damn thing around and park it right on Marconia's doorstep, and turn myself over to whatever passes for judge and jury over there. I will answer for my crimes, but I have to stop, this, from happening!" Starblade punctuated every beat of his last sentence with a pounding fist against the wall. He meant it, every word. Every intention he had, should they survive whatever was to happen next, was to make the journey to his forgotten home, and face whatever justice he had to.

There was a long minute when he feared that Karei may not have believed him. Then the creature's hand landed on a panel, and one of the shards of the prison cell lowered back into the floor. Starblade hurriedly moved out, suddenly nervous that they would be discovered. "Thank you, Karei. Just tell me where to go, and I'll find out what I need to know." Starblade was quickly learning that gaining information was as simple as placing a hand on the nearby equipment.

Karei waved a hand. "Have short time, but time before master discovers escape. Will show you where information is." Starblade nodded, and the two climbed the stairs, quick as they could, wary of discovery. The fog of the dark had lifted from him, and a spark of hope had returned.

The _Maximillian_ had not moved from its previous spot, where all control had been lost, and its end had nearly been met. Full power would never be restored in the shape they were in, especially with a large circular hole in the center of the saucer section. The casualty count was in the hundreds, nearly half the ship, and Doctor Alexander knew that he would likely see no sleep for the next several days, if he would ever get the opportunity to sleep again. Sickbay had long since run out of beds, and Alexander had been forced to take over most of the deck. It was a dicey progress, considering Sickbay's location was very near where the laser had sliced directly through the saucer. The force fields were holding, thank goodness, and work healing those that could still be helped had begun in earnest. It was small comfort to those injured, the many that were left lying in the middle of the hallways, sheets covering their bloodied and burned bodies as they moaned in pain, awaiting relief of any sort.

Elsewhere on the "Mighty Max", there was alternatively peace and chaos. The sheer amount of crewmembers that were hurt, or worse killed, caused many nonessential parts of the ship to be darkened completely, in order to preserve power for needed systems. In those parts of the ship that were being used, there was shouting, and movement. The crews that were still able-bodied were working as fast and as hard as they could to get the _Maximillian_ back into some sort of shape, at least so that they could escape what they feared was oncoming doom, should the vessel that attacked them return. The anger against Lyon was replaced now by the need to finish the job, so the crew of the _Maximillian_ sallied forth, replacing and repairing whenever and wherever they could, and however they could.

Because of the disaster that the regular bridge of the ship had become, the remaining command staff had retreated to a secondary command center, christened the "Battle Bridge" by Admiral Lyon during the construction of the Sovereign-class ship. Stationed deeper within the ship, theoretically in more protected quarters, the command staff could run the ship from a more sheltered location should the need arise. And at this point, the need was definitely there.

The staff had lessened somewhat, due to the loss of the communications officer's hearing, and the quick transfer of command to Kelvok, which had actually taken place on the way to the battle bridge. Tamak had slipped into the First Officer's position, and the Caitian Nato had filled in both as second officer and as communications, using his bat-like hearing abilities to navigate the backup equipment.

Admiral T'Kill, along with Admiral Blobbin, having made sure Lyon had returned to his quarters, stayed on the bridge. The power had not been restored yet, as Tamak had returned to his old engineering stomping grounds, under orders to provide as much warp power as possible. T'Kill sat, silently, looking over the scene in front of him.

It was as if it was a new ship being built before his eyes. In order to beef up the power in this section, to allow for total control of the ship, a small army of engineers had invaded the bridge, assembling parts and controls as quick as they could. It was not quickly enough for T'Kill's tastes, as he shifted his attention to Blobbin, who was complaining to Kelvok about Lyon. The half Human half Romulan shook his head. Once Blobbin started a rant, it was difficult to get him out of one.

"…The man didn't even bother to think! Just shoot, shoot, shoot some more, and if there's anything left, well hell, better shoot it! Give him one problem, and he just goes totally spiptic over it!"

T'Kill finally interrupted him, though Kelvok, being Vulcan, showed no sign of outward distress. "Could you just give it a rest?"

"I'm just getting warmed up!" The Errsedorian answered, not breaking his stride, and launched into another tirade about Lyon, and something about shuttles and red lights…Old stories that T'Kill had heard many times before, and he was not interested in hearing about them right now. They were trapped in holding pattern, awaiting the word for Engineering on what speed they could make to Earth. Nato was hurriedly adjusting his communications station, so that the slipshod fleet that T'Kill had been assembling could be apprised of the current situation. T'Kill considered yelling at one of them, but he caught himself, knowing that forcing them into more work would only result in slowing them down, the last thing that he could afford at this point.

So he continued to sit at the Operations station, idly watching the numbers scroll by on the pad, local gas pockets, nearby nebulas…space, despite being fairly empty, seemed far too busy for T'Kill's tastes.

He closed his eyes for a second, relishing in the brief instant of rest. The rest was interrupted, as it had been far too often lately, by Blobbin's ranting.

"And another thing, he tried to do all this in this ship! Pride of the Federation my shiny ass! Just looking for another ship to destroy, I tell you…just give me one of my ships, one little particle dump and I tell ya, we'd…"

A firework went off inside T'Kill's brain. "Particle dump?"

Blobbin stopped, and rolled his head since there were no visible eyes present. "Yes, particle dump. An Errsedorian ship with just a small one would…"

"Tell me what it is, Blobbin."

"I've told you before!"

"And you'll tell me again. Spill it."

Sounding put out by the request, but inwardly excited at the chance to show off about his people's technology, Blobbin spoke. "A particle dump is standard on Errsedorian ships. Sucks in all the universe's gunk, and anytime we like, we just convert it to energy, send that junk straight to the engines, presto! That's how we power our stuff."

"Like a ram scoop."

"Yeah, sort of like a ram…" Blobbin trailed off, realization spreading throughout his form as T'Kill rushed to the Captain's chair, not bothering to go through Kelvok, who truthfully, didn't mind at all.

T'Kill tapped the comm. button on the chair's arm, opening a channel to engineering. "Tamak!"

The voice came back quickly, and for a Vulcan, it was harried. "Admiral, I'll have Warp 3 in a couple of seconds…"

"Never mind that, would it even be possible to reroute the ram scoop outputs directly into the Errsedorian energy feeds?"

"…Possible, but unlikely, and it would require a power output of more than half this…"

"Do it. I don't care how, just do it. Cut out every system on this ship. Life support. Do it." He ended the transmission, and just as quickly called over to Lieutenant Nato. "Communications!"

"Sir?"

"Get that working, and contact Admiral Mitias at Starbase One. Have her standby for instructions on assembling new weaponry on every ship in our defense fleet." He stopped, and called out to Blobbin. "Operations!"

It took a minute for Blobbin to realize he was the closest to the Operations chair. "Aye!"

"The instant we have warp, and I mean the instant, haul ass to the rendezvous point. And I want you to hit every nebula, gas pocket, and space junk you can find on your way there. We've got one chance at this."

Blobbin started punching in the numbers, shaking his head, not convinced, but busy on his work. Kelvok wasn't convinced either, and he was not able to keep from voicing his concern.

"Admiral, are you sure that this will provide enough energy to keep the Errsedorian devices functional? We cannot survive another instance like before."

"Kelvok, it has to. If it'll work on his snail ship," He nodded at Blobbin, who formed a hand with a single finger pointing straight up out of his back. "Then it'll work on this one, and every ship in our fleet."

"And if it doesn't, then our last hope is gone." Blobbin finished. T'Kill, grimacing, nodded.

There was a sudden call over the comm. system. "Warp drive is at your disposal. We can make it to warp 3.5 without much trouble…"

Tamak was quickly interrupted by Kelvok. "Warp 4, then." T'Kill let out a half smile at the impatience, and Blobbin punched in the final commands.

The _Maximillian_, seemingly filled with a new purpose, launched into space, with time running out, and none to spare.


	18. Intent

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Eighteen: Intent

The catwalks and consoles of the alien vessel moved past the pair as they moved quickly, deeper into the central systems. They moved quickly, the strange being and the android, driving ever towards their new destination. For the creature, assisting Starblade on the mission seemed to come mostly out of habit, as it was moving quite fast through the various random walkways, almost too fast for the android to keep up, though he was at least able to keep the alien in sight.

Starblade, for once, was allowing himself a small amount of hope. While he was still ambivalent about trusting anyone or anything in this strange place, he was willing to place a small amount of trust into this strange creature. At the very least, his fortunes had improved. Much better to be moving closer to more possible answers than to be trapped within an alien prison.

He wasn't looking forward to whatever he was about to find out. The last revelations had sent him reeling, and he really didn't want to know anymore. But another part of Starblade was driving him now, some function deep within him that was forcing him to uncover the truth behind all of this, a reason why all of this was happening, and hopefully an answer for his doppelganger's misplaced fury.

It was amazing to him that he still had no idea where they were heading, as they had been moving in this pace, climbing and sometimes making perilous leaps over precariously placed machinery, for what seemed like hours, though Starblade's internal chronometer, having been turned back on, showed that merely half of an hour had passed. He hoped he got his point across sufficiently, and that whatever this vessel had that passed as a universal translator persuaded his apparent ally to get him to somewhere that would help. He supposed that the alien could be leading him into a trap, or an airlock, or some sort of annihilator, but anywhere would be better than that prison.

Judging by the rate of acceleration that the vessel had maintained since it had started to move again, Starblade estimated that they would be back to full strength very soon. Too soon for the android, and he wondered if it would be too far out of their way to make a small detour and attempt to throw another wrench in the controls. He was half surprised his disappearance had not been noticed already, as he had thought that Canty would have kept a close eye on his prisoner. Maybe he had too much faith in his slave, that the Ka'Ki'Ri would never disobey his orders. Then again, Starblade supposed that he had some pull, that is if he really was who Canty said he was.

The sheer size of this vessel, along with the length of their journey, gave him the idea that the different departments must be huge in area, and far apart to prevent their complete destruction if an attacker got a lucky hit. That is, if anyone could penetrate the vessel's considerable defenses. If he ever got back to the _Maximillian_, He was definitely going to have to see if there was a way to use that little dimensional hiding trick with Federation technology. It certainly would show the next invading party a trick or two, and make cloaking all but obsolete. All of this put Starblade at some small amount of ease, as wherever the command functions were, they were bound to be far away from where they were now, buying them more time before they were discovered.

In spite of himself, and in spite of everything else, Starblade found himself having a twinge of worry for his companion. What would happen if they were discovered? At least he had a chance to get away, but Canty's slave, bound by forced loyalty, would undoubtedly be punished. Perhaps killed. Another life lost. Another soul on Starblade's conscience.

Too many thoughts, he decided, as they pushed forward into a purplish-lit corridor of chain link catwalks and paths. Better to just focus on the task at hand. Better to deal with this when and if it came down to it. Starblade threw off all the thoughts he considered distracting and unnecessary and focused his entire self on following his companion.

"Nearly there." Karei announced, and their pace began to slow. The purple lights seemed to brighten as they grew closer to whatever it was they were moving towards. Eventually, Starblade adjusted his eyes, and focused his vision on his new surroundings.

Approaching them now were towers, tall purple towers emitting their light softly. They extended far into what would be considered the sky of this vessel, overseeing all. They were long and cyndrical, forming sharp points at their tops, almost out of sight of Starblade and his companion. They were smooth, with yellow symbols of what the android assumed to be Marconian origin appearing and disappearing all over the structure. He didn't guess at their purpose, but did admire the look of them. The three towers formed a sort-of triangle, two that were across from each other, roughly 10 yards apart, and another one in the middle, the same distance farther away. Connecting these towers, closer to the floor which maintained its low-tech brown grating, were panels similar to the ones seen before at various locations throughout the ship. Above these panels, spread out all over this section of the vessel, were the same flat panel screens found before. They gave off the same purplish glow as the towers, giving an eerie feel to this location.

Starblade looked around him quickly, feeling as though he was being watched, or stalked. Seeing, and hearing nothing, he relaxed a small amount, as he refocused his attention on the objects in front of him.

Karei stopped as they reached the towers, and Starblade took his cue to stop as well. He watched as the creature placed a hand on the closest tower. The purple glow began to pulsate, and the black panels running between each cylinder began to light up. Off into the distance the lights grew brighter, and the panels seemed to come together, converging at a central location. Karei took its hand off of the tower, and the pulsing slowed, but the lights on the panels remained active. Gesturing silently towards the central tower, the two began their hurried pace once again, now that it seemed that what Starblade assumed to be the communications array was activated.

As they reached the central column, Starblade gazed up upon it. Its width was easily double of the other towers, and he assumed that it was even taller. As though answering his internal questions, Karei waved a hand towards the tower.

"Central cortex. Controls all communications, all memory of ship."

Starblade nodded. The main computer of this vessel. Undoubtedly containing the logs and history of the Marconian race, just as the _Maximillian_ contained the histories of the worlds of the Federation. But despite his interest in the long forgotten culture of his 'people', he was only here to discover one thing.

The truth.

"How do I…activate it?" The panels had no words on them, in Marconian or any other language. Just pulses of light in seemingly random patterns.

"Place hand on leftmost panel. Must think of what you want to know. Cortex will do rest."

Starblade moved past Karei, nodding again as he did so. "What are you going to do?"

"Watch for master. Will wake you if discovered."

_If you're able to._ Starblade wasn't putting anything past his enemy, and still wasn't ruling out this being an elaborate trap of some sort. But he was out of options, and rapidly running out of time as well. Knowing there was nothing else he could do; he placed a hand on the console, and thought hard.

_Show me the past…Show me what this vessel was made for. Show me the truth. _

_Show me everything. _

As the column seemed to glow anew with a even brighter light, switching from purple to bright yellowish white, the vessel began to swim away from Starblade, swirling around him, leaving him alone in a world of absolute darkness.

The lights were off in Admiral Lyon's cabin. He did not sleep, nor did he have any wish to. He preferred this, alone with his thoughts in the blackness, where he could confront them, now that he was free of any other concerns or pressures. The thoughts of what would happen when this was over, if there was any hope of their survival, did not enter into Lyon's mind.

Instead, he fought the demons from his past directly, the thoughts and actions that had led him, and the _Maximillian_ alongside, into this situation. He trusted T'Kill and Blobbin would at least give the vessel a good fight, perhaps even taking a few of his ideas into account. He did still have a few left in him.

The things that Lieutenant Commander Starblade had accused him of dug into his soul. Though he doubted this other 'Marconian's' version of the facts, Lyon did not doubt that some had died because of the actions he took that day. Innocents always suffer when proud men attempt to accomplish. The events that transpired on that station were motivated largely by greed, and not by Lyon himself.

Starfleet had sent a number of highly respected Captains and Commanders to that starbase, with an Admiral to oversee operations, so at least it had the appearance of being something that could benefit the Federation, but at its core Lyon had come to realize that the discoveries being made would only serve those that were paying the bills, as it was not completely a Starfleet operation. Lyon had never looked into who was behind the funding, or who eventually benefited from the new power sources that they were looking into. He had simply began secretly recording every piece of information he could, with the intention of at least covering himself if anything were to go wrong, or if the situation presented itself, to use them for his benefit.

He didn't count on getting so ingrained with the new discoveries that were being made. What started as a simple probe to uncover new resources in the heart of subspace soon turned into a rush to breach the wall separating our universe and another, which Lyon now knew to be the Marconian universe. The entire focus of the operation had changed, and intrigued, Lyon could not help himself from delving as deeply as he could into it, almost forgetting that he was still documenting every piece of information that was being taken in.

When the wall was breached, it was done too soon, without any care for anything else but the mission. Something took control of him there, a rogue instinct, similar to the thoughts that jumped into his head when he was strategizing. Every other time, it had led him into the right direction. Every other time, it had been his secret weapon, an edge that even the most successful officers seemed to lack.

Not that time, however. Lyon had survived, along with a few others, and he had recovered the data, what little of it that made it through the destruction. And since that day he knew there would be consequences.

Everything he had done since that day had been preparation. He knew now his mistake was that it had been too much in the defensive. The data suggested vessels with horrifying weapons, some of which the Federation had no answer for. He knew that they had to be ready. He also spent time developing the Observatory, keeping it well stocked with what he thought were competent officers. None of them took well to being placed so far away from the action, especially during the strife of the Dominion War, and the Borg invasions. But this did not deter Lyon from his goal of preparation.

Coming across Blobbin was a help, and he encouraged the development of the Errsedorian weaponry, as well as helping along T'Kill's strategic abilities. Together, the three of them would be able to fight off anything, or so he thought.

Lyon closed his eyes, leaning back onto the couch, as he thought of finding Starblade. He knew from the start that the android had come from the other universe, and knew of the implications of his actions, but he soldiered on nonetheless, shielding the new officer from his past, feigning ignorance and pushing him forward. When the time came, Starblade would be a valuable asset.

He cursed himself for having thought of the android as just another weapon, instead of a capable officer and friend. It was Karma, Lyon supposed, that now they had been left in this predicament. Starblade turned against them, and the _Maximillian_, an extension of Lyon's self if there had ever been one, was now facing an enemy created by their supposed greatest leader. He had grown complacent with the power, Lyon knew, and had buried the past too deep. And now here it was, back to challenge him with more power than it needed.

Lyon knew it was nothing more than what he deserved. But so many others… The Gorn homeworld. Archer Observatory. Captain Septaric, Lieutenant Thomas, and the others on the _Maximillian_ dead and wounded, all caused by the actions of a stubborn man. Had he come clean with what he knew, what he had discovered, all of this may have been avoided.

He knew what the vessel was capable of, the destructive capability enough to destroy a planet without lowering its energies. It did not take much to assume that its current path toward Earth was no accident. The heart of the Federation, so often a target for aggressors in the past, was too tempting to pass up. Especially now, with their weakened state. Lyon knew T'Kill would have difficulty finding enough ships in working condition to organize an effective defense at this point. As it was, it was going to be cutting it close to Earth for the fight, from the tidbits that Lyon had been able to listen in on, before he had forced himself to stop reading the communications that had been coming into the Max at a rapid pace. Not being able to assist in the fight, Lyon did not want to know anymore. The worst thing he could do at this point would be to get involved again. When he had done it before, it had led to Septaric's death. And Thomas's. And scores of others. Who knew how many would pay the price next time for a fight that should not have been theirs? The simplest answer now would be to ensure that there would not be a next time.

The stars moving past illuminated Lyon as he laid his head down. Not to sleep, but merely to continue his quiet contemplation in the near-darkness. He mourned for those lost in the battle, but still allowed himself hope. He knew it was baseless, but it still was there. The future of the Federation, placed in jeopardy by Admiral Lyon himself, now was depending on two of his greatest officers, who believed that they could do anything, and Lyon had begun to believe that as well. And he would go on believing that until he saw Earth burn up beneath its sun as the Gorn world had.

The stars flew on as Lyon continued his thoughts, well into the night…

The Assemblage was complete. The newly created being stood in the middle of the room, not yet alive, not quite dead. The others gazed upon him silently, the first of their new kind, the first of many that would be. His form was perfect, at least for what he was intended. The specifics were exact, and his creators knew that they would be well rewarded. It was a comparably simple task to assemble a body that they considered inferior. Only two of the appendages. Such a waste. The wiring and technology cleverly hidden beneath layers and layers of detailed replicas of tissue and veins, organs pretending to carry on their functions as though the being was what he appeared to be. From the outward appearance, the new being had the appearance and even feel of a live human being, impossible to tell apart from the rest of the species. Only a metal tab on the base of the spinal column, necessary to effect whatever repairs would be needed, told the tale.

The creators had been arisen from their slumber to once again put their skills to use for the good of all Marconia. An effort of this scale was almost unheard of, considering the size of the population. However, the need was stressed, and full scale production had begun. The first prototype had been delivered and approved, and the payment had been finalized. The most difficult part of the procedure was the transfer of consciousness, a fine art that had never been perfected, and only three-fourths of those transferred maintained their intelligence, to say nothing for their sanity.

Fearless, the one that had awoken them had not shied away from his potential destruction. Instead, he was the first to undergo the procedure. And now, in such a small amount of time, he was to be reawoken, and the experiment would be judged. A small press to the lower back, pressing inward until the spine was touched was all it took for the creation to awake, blinking his eyes rapidly, the eyelids just one of the many changes that he would have to grow accustomed to.

He studied himself in a reflective; gazing upon his new body at all angles, and deemed the creators' work worthy of praise. The plans could continue as scheduled.

Not since the war against the Ka-Ki-Ri, the last survivors of the wrath of the Marconians, had the populace been this united. The very thought of an entire race of beings merely waiting for their opportunity to pillage this unspoiled universe was enough to drive them mad with fear, and it was just as easy to persuade the ruling council, a defensive minded social group that irritated him to no end, to allow a vote on his proposed idea. The council was confident that their dissenting opinion would be enough to sway the populace. They felt it was far too dangerous to press a new generation into service this early into the current one. Only in the time to come could a generation be developed and the consciousnesses transferred safely. The threat simply was not there. The vote went forward.

For every one dissenting vote, there were ten for the proposal.

Never having doubted the power of fear on any psyche, he moved his corps and navies as though it was a game, preparing them for a quick decisive strike that would solidify their place in the universes as ones that would command, and ones that would destroy. And one by one, following quickly into step, the populace was reformed into the very image of the beings they were tasked to destroy, so better to understand their enemy.

After his own recreation, with his faithful, if a bit ambitious, second in command, he announced his intentions. A large scale assault would commence, breaching the walls of the universes at their weakest point. The war would begin and end in a short time. And so, at the allotted hour and before a transformed crowd of millions, the great warships departed their home base at the great spire, launching as though spurred on by the cheers of the deluded masses, unknowing that they were cheering their own destruction. Before the launch, the leader of this new armada gave a great speech, detailing why they must act, why the fight must be taken to their enemies before they would have the chance to invade, and how they have and would benefit from this struggle. For the one that had risked everything, including his own self, for this moment, it was his greatest achievement.

The warships joined those already in orbits around the great spire, and together they set off into the great blackness. Hundreds of ships, each capable of destroying entire civilizations, approached their destination cautiously, despite the power they contained. For the transfer process from one universe to another was very risky, and the powers that would be expelled as the warships moved within the universal corridor could cause a great disaster.

While the leader was confident in his fleet's abilities, his second-in-command was distrustful, and voiced openly his distaste for this direct assault. Surely a sneak attack at the heart of the area they were invading would be simpler, and carry far less risk.

For his arrogance, and poor judgment in questioning his leader openly, he was jettisoned through the airlock. He would survive, of course, and continue in his leader's service. This was merely his punishment, one that the leader himself had endured as he moved up in the ranking structure.

The great ships moved towards the anomaly, a electric tear in space. They had begun receiving communications and data from the other side of the universes. Data was pouring through, and recordings of the happenings on the base from the other universe were displayed throughout the ship. Even at this late time, it was essential to know thy enemy.

It appeared that they were launching a vessel of their own towards the anomaly in their universe. It was scanning for information, and even was capable of picking up some signals from the Marconians' own systems. But it was poorly constructed, and controlled by amateurs. The leader was able to pull up the very man responsible for the actions of the small vessel, and he studied the individual's features closely. The man seemed almost confident, as though he knew exactly what he was doing, even though that was impossible for such a primitive intellect. And he would have no idea what he was about to commence.

The small vessel entered the corridor, but did so too slowly, too clumsily, and it ripped a seam through subspace. The seam unleashed power unheard of and unrivaled throughout the universes, the power of creation and destruction all rolled into one. A small amount slipped through to the other universe, and what happened there the leader of the warships could not see, as the bulk of the energy destroyed the small vessel, and tore through the corridor, aiming through space directly for the lead warship.

There were many possibilities to consider, and as the leader of the Fleet he had the responsibility to take the blow, so that the energy could not cause harm to his people. He made his decision quickly, and did not mourn the ensuing losses. He angled his ship at such a way that the power did not strike him, and instead soared slightly overhead. Even with the miss the ship was affected. Sparks flew as the power shut off, and only their machine-like physiology kept them alive with the lack of any life-support. The power instead moved towards the weaker ships of the fleet, gaining in size and intensity the longer it survived in the universe.

They never had a chance, and barely saw it coming. The power wave, white and terrible, ripped through the ships, overloading all sensors and systems, killing all within seconds. And it grew, taking the power of the ships and added to its own, changing its trajectory, moving faster now towards where the ships had launched from. Towards the seat of power of the Marconian people, the Great Spire.

His fleet decimated, the great leader could only watch through his monitors as the wave struck the Great Spire dead on, breaking it loose from the lesser spires by the sheer force of impact. The Spire floated in space, and then, its walls breached, it simply imploded from the sudden pressures consumed it, as it had never been designed to withstand such an impact. Hundreds of millions of Marconians had resided within the Spire's walls. Now gone, wiped out in the blink of an eye, by a destructive force caused by, in the leader's estimates, an unwitting fool. He, of course, ignored his own role in these events.

The destruction was also massive to the surrounding lesser spires, where the working drones and older generations lived, those that were either unwilling to transfer their consciousness or incompatible with the new hardware. They too suffered much damage, and several older generations perished in the fires and the chaos.

The leader faced immediate accusations from his shipmates, why they could not have been sacrificed instead of the Spire, why the ship moved out of the way instead of doing its duty. The leader calmly explained his position on the matters, that his actions were for the good of all of Marconia, not just the ruling classes. That he himself had been activated and worked his way to prominence over his class of upbringing, and that the ruling monarchy deserved what they had just received.

And then he annihilated everyone else on the vessel, set the self-destruct, and threw himself out of an airlock. Shutting himself down, he was later found amongst the wreckage of the vessel, and it was assumed that it had merely been a defensive measure. No recordings or tracking information would ever be found of what truly happened, save what the leader had kept for himself, edited over the weeks that he had been floating in space, of course.

Upon his return to the Spires, he and his militaristic movement quickly placed the blame for the Great Spire's destruction solely at the feet of this other universe. Using sophisticated weaponry, he explained, they had struck first, with enough power to destroy the entire chain of Spires. Only a heroic act of attempted self-sacrifice saved as much as possible. They were no longer fit to be slaves, as the Ka-Ki-Ri had become. No, these insects would be squashed. But a direct assault no longer would work, their devices would see the Marconian fleet coming, and finish them just as easily as they had before.

No, this time a different tact would be taken.

With the populace now united even more than before, a special vessel was constructed, taking advantage of the differences between the universes. The leader's second tried to talk him out of flying the specialized ship himself, tried to reason with him that there was no need for him to sacrifice himself, that others could do the job, they were willing to follow him unto termination itself. The leader paid no heed, and the ship lifted off, again to the cheering of Marconians everywhere, cheering for their hero, their savior.

And even his second joined in the chants and the merriment, as Critch Starblade, leader of the Marconian Military sect, controller of the Spires for the remainder of his lifespan, left the newly constructed Great Spire, and towards his destiny.

"And the rest, as you would put it, is history."

As the world swirled back into view around Starblade, he spun backwards, regaining his senses and reality after being deep in what seemed to be a dream, yet one he knew was frighteningly real. It was worse than he could have imagined, in some ways. He was responsible for the deaths of the Marconians, and for spearheading this movement against the Federation. He was therefore responsible for everything.

But Rob was not.

He shook it off as he realized what had sprung him out of the past reality. He looked towards the cylinders, far back where he had entered this area. And he saw Canty standing there, his slave behind him, and he was smiling, as though Starblade had accomplished something great. He continued then, just standing there, as though they were not on opposite sides of the battle.

"But there is more, as I'm sure you're aware."

Starblade glanced at the Ka-Ki-Ri, worried for his welfare. "Karei…"

"Oh don't worry, not about him." Canty took a step forward. "They are bred to take orders from their superiors. In some sense, deep in his subconscious, you are still his superior. Then again, you were mine, yet I feel attachment to that no longer."

"I'm crushed."

"Sure you are. But let me finish the story for you, since I so rudely interrupted. For the time after you were gone, the people rejoiced that their salvation was near. But soon, we grew impatient awaiting the great bounty of success you promised us. So, I filled the power vacuum."

"I don't want to hear anymore." Starblade was tired of this, and knowing he didn't want to hear what else he had caused.

"Too bad! You created this situation for yourself. As I was saying, I, my Ka-Ki-Ri, and a few other brave souls chose to investigate your disappearance, and when we reached where you must have crossed over…

"The wreckage on our side was immense; as I'm sure it was in this universe. Lesser ones thought you dead, but only I kept the hope that somehow you would have survived. And eventually, it was decided to take one last shot at it, one final attempt to bring Marconia glory, and to avenge our lost generations. In this vessel, I launched, and the rest…well, as I said."

Starblade narrowed his eyes, focused on his enemy.

"You're a fraud. This was never about Lyon, never about the Federation."

"It's ALL about Lyon! He is a pawn, a pawn you created! By his inept actions, and by your own refusal to die when you should have honorably, millions were lost!"

"Then if it's an issue with me then deal with me! I'll go back willingly!"

"Oh, you'll go back, and willingly. But the task you set us upon so long ago must be completed, for the good of all."

"Good of all! Destroying Earth, wiping out an entire civilization…How is that possibly for the good of all?"

Canty chuckled to himself softly, shaking his head in disbelief. "Oh Critch, how small-minded you have become. Do you really think the power of this vessel is limited to the destruction of planets? Do you really think I'd have come all this way just for that?" Starblade was silent as Canty moved closer, placing his hand on panel, and whispered to him as the lights dimmed around them. "Do you really think I'm here for Earth?"

The world faded around them, and only Starblade and Canty stood alone in the darkness. Soon stars faded into view, and one became larger than the rest, filling their vision. The sun burned brightly. Suddenly the view zoomed back, and the image of the invading vessel, the lone ship in the blackness, rushed towards the sun, not letting up even as it entered the corona. Flames flickered on the front of the ship as it disappeared, seemingly entering the core. Starblade could hear his twin's voice whispering. "See now what you have started. What I will finish."

The sun began swirling with dark colors, much different than the familiar yellow and orange and brightness. Within seconds the darkness surrounded the sun, filling it. Then, silently, and terribly, the sun began to grow, doubling, tripling in size, over and over and over again until it had reached the first planet in this solar system. It easily consumed it, and within a standard minute had done the same for the rest of the planets. With a start Starblade realized what system this was, and he took an involuntary step back, sickened. If he had eaten anything recently, he would have thrown up. As it was, he was rendered to a shocked state, unable to fathom anything. He simply stared at Canty.

"Ah, now he gets it." Starblade's enemy shook his head, and paced around the panels. "It's my fault, you know. I let you continue having all these great ideas, and then ruining all of them. Letting you have control, even being shunted out a few airlocks. When we both knew who would win in the end. That's why I did it, you know."

Starblade tried to speak, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Did…Did what?"

"Sabotaged your vessel. Put you in this universe for good. Thought letting you fight hand to hand with the mortals for a bit might let you gain some perspective. We both know you didn't have the control to finish the plan."

Starblade steadied himself, still only able to rasp simple words. "You…You…"

"The vessel was destroyed because of me. Just as you did to the Ka-Ki-Ri, you would take pity on this universe's creatures, when they deserve nothing but destruction! You would give more honorable deaths to these…things than you would to your own people! Marconia demanded a sacrifice, and I gave them one, and so I shall drive a strike directly into the heart of your Federation, and glory will be to Marconia!

"And it won't end there, oh no. Every sun that exists in this sky is an affront to the glory of our home universe. It will take time, oh yes, time and an obscene number of vessels. But we are as Gods to these creatures, Critch. They will be unmade, and marking our victory shall be a line of Great Spires far and wide across the great expanse that we shall create!

"Who can say if it has to end there? If there is one other universe, there must be hundreds! Thousands! All ripe for the conquering! And in the end, Marconia and Marconia alone shall stand across the expanse and rule without competition or fear of oppression!

"This shall be your last chance, Critch. Whether you join me willingly or not, it makes no difference. I control powers beyond anything you can remember, rearranging your mind will be a simple task. And at last you shall call me your King, and finally I shall rule!"

Starblade took another step back, his mind reeling from everything that he had just seen and heard. Faced with this decision, to allow this madman, so much worse than even his past self could ever have been, to continue on his path towards genocide on a universal scale, or to deny him, and face termination, or far worse, having his very self changed once again, Starblade knew he had only one option.

He ran.

There wasn't much direction to where he was headed, but what Starblade did have was speed. His patience at an end with his doppelganger, he knew he needed to get far away as fast as possible, lest he be captured again, this time with no possibility of escape. His abilities carried him over multiple walkways and catwalks, faster than likely anyone had ever moved in this vessel.

Unfortunately, it did not seem to be fast enough, as he had begun to hear the quick footfalls of his adversary coming up behind him. Canty, it seemed, had no desire to let him escape again.

He dodged over the side of one walkway, then another, pushing himself as far as he could go, but even that wasn't enough, as the quick steps grew ever closer to his ear, until it seemed that he was just out of reach.

Taking a leap of faith, he threw himself over the side of the walkway he was running on, sending himself deeper into the bowels of the vessel. Catching an arm on a lower rail, he quickly threw himself up and over, back on solid ground once again. Taking a quick look down, he was suspended over a series of crisscrossing catwalks, descending down and deep, until he couldn't see anything lower before him. Making a quick decision, he resumed his speed, pushing himself faster, to his very limit, even as heard the landing of his twin behind him.

The chase moved on over the straight path. Starblade thought that Canty must have gotten some upgrades done in the time since he had disappeared, otherwise their abilities would have remained equal. This did nothing to alleviate his growing worry, as the running steps of his adversary had grew back to their former loudness. He knew he had only seconds left, and had to do something soon.

Thinking as quickly as he possibly could, he suddenly leaped over the side of the walkway, a lone part where there was no walkway underneath within sight. As he disappeared over the side, Canty followed, unwilling to give up the chase.

Exactly as Starblade had predicted.

As he hung onto the bottom of the walkway, he watched his enemy fall, a look of disbelief on Canty's face as he quickly fell into the blackness of the vessel.

Breathing a heavy sigh of relief, Starblade pulled himself up and over, and jogged, still quickly, but not nearly as fast, back to the towers where his desperate run had begun. When he finally arrived, he found, as he expected, Karei awaiting whoever would return. The Ka-Ki-Ri did not seem surprised that it was not his master, but Starblade supposed he really didn't know what passed for emotions with this race. Ignoring those thoughts, he approached Karei anxiously.

"We don't have much time, we need to…"

Karei shook his head and cut Starblade off. "I cannot go. Have already done too much."

"Karei, when he comes back… I don't know what he'll do to you!"

The creature seemed to afflict a sad tone to his voice. "I do."

Starblade sighed, as there wasn't enough time to convince him again. "Come with me, help me destroy this thing, or shut it down at least. Then take me back to Marconia, take me wherever…I will face justice."

"No justice…not there. Not for Karei…Not for Starblade. Cannot shut ship down, cannot self-destruct. Master rules forbid it. Will show you way to core systems, can identify main power there. Will also find transceiver platform, can communicate with ship." The creature pointed. "Not far, will find path."

"Karei…" Starblade considered asking him again for his help, but knew that he had pressed his luck already, and there was no telling how fast Canty would recover. "I will go to Marconia. If there isn't justice now…There will be."

Karei merely nodded. "Hurry, Master will come back."

Starblade offered a hand. "Take my hand. It's how we…how humans show we mean what we say." Karei looked at it, and gently reached a massive hand forward. Starblade shook both their hands, and then backed off a few paces in the direction he had been pointed towards, and silently said, "Thank you." Then he turned around, and began moving at a very past pace, towards anything that stood out as an equivalent to Engineering or a Communications platform. With the memories that were being processed through his mind, he knew it wouldn't be a tough task, as everything was becoming more familiar by the moment. Karei, on the other hand, remained where he was standing, watching Starblade's figure disappear into the darkened areas of the vessel.

The alien was right; Starblade thought to himself a few hundred yards away, it really wasn't far. He came upon two stations parallel to each other, facing one another across a pathway only a few feet wide. They were both bathed in a reddish glow, making them easier to see against the blackness of the rest of the vessel. Looking at the two stations, he noticed one had what seemed to be schematics of the vessel, models of it spinning around slowly. Assuming it to be the engineering equivalent, he turned to the other one, which only had a blank screen. There was no time to second-guess; he just had to rely on his faded memories and instincts on how this was going to work. He sighed, assembled himself, and placed a hand on the middle of the dark panel, and thought about what he wanted.

Sleep had come to Lyon unexpectedly, as he lost himself in his past memories and deeds. His last thought before unconsciousness was yet another regret, that instead of holding it in and protecting his secrets that he should have someone, anyone, the truth years ago. Now everyone knew, and it certainly did not bode well for the Federation, to say nothing of Lyon's career. A padd hit the floor as he began to doze, one of several that he had been reading through. His logs about the initial incident were many and varied, and it gave him some comfort to know that second-guessing his actions was not a new occurrence for the Admiral.

It was only a few minutes into his long-in-coming rest when he was softly lulled awake by a soft chime, coming from his desk. As he blinked himself awake, he watched as his personal communication device opened itself up. Rousing himself, he wondered why the leaders of the Federation would be contacting him now, of all times. T'Kill and Blobbin were now in charge of this mission. All that was left for Lyon was to wait for the inevitable court martial.

Lyon sat, still in his uniform, though now extremely wrinkled, closed his eyes, and willed himself to think clearly. Then the tapped the padd to accept the communication, not concerned with anyone tapping in. Strange that it was coming from an unknown location…

Lyon thought it was even stranger when he saw who was contacting him. He stared in disbelief for a moment, before he could regain his composure.

"Starblade."

"Admiral…"

Any patience Lyon had with this situation had been greatly diminished by the most recent events. "What is it this time? Calling to gloat about how easily we were defeated? Going to brag about your next move?"

"Rob…I'm sorry."

Lyon stopped, and sat back, folding his hands in front of his chin. Was he serious, or was this just another game to him?

"You'll understand why I can't believe that."

"It's the truth. The other Marconian…he lied to me, told me what he thought I wanted to hear…what I thought I wanted to hear. And he was wrong."

"Wrong to what? Wrong that you didn't want to hear it?"

"Wrong about what really happened. You're innocent, Rob."

He wasn't aware he was holding his breath for a few moments after Starblade said his last statement, but Lyon kept his poker face. "It seems the evidence you showed this ship goes against that."

"The video was fabricated. I located the real one. I've seen it, and will show it just as I did before."

"To what end? Why should I believe this one isn't a lie as well? How do I know this 'other' isn't standing behind you, feeding you your lines? Game's over, Critch. You're bankrupt."

Starblade felt stung as he remembered the earlier game of the 20th century they had played just before everything had fallen apart. Back in the simpler times, mere hours before they had encountered the vessel for the first time, and all hell had broken loose. Nonetheless, he had to continue.

"I still have a few houses left. Rob, I saw what happened. There was an invasion fleet; the Marconians were sending a fleet to wipe out the Federation. They were getting ready to enter the rift to cross into our universe, and then you sent the probe in."

Lyon shook his head, unwilling to believe. "The cities…"

"I…." Starblade was unsure how much to reveal, and decided at this point that even Lyon would have to wait before he revealed himself totally to the Admiral. "I saw the leader of the vessel arrange the destruction of the cities. He killed them, not you. He used you, Rob, just like he tried to use me." And then the screen changed, and before he could stop him, Lyon again saw the images he had tried to burn out of his memory since the first time he had seen them, only hours before. Images of death, of generations dying before his eyes. Great crystal cities falling apart in front of him, and all his fault. But this time there was something different. Lyon saw the wave leave the rift, and head toward…

Ships, many more than he had seen before. Hundreds of them, all in an attack formation. A military commander, Lyon knew a formation like that when he saw one. This was an invasion force.

The wave struck many ships, and he saw the largest one dive out of the way, allowing the devilish energy to continue on its way, to its final destination.

He heard Starblade's voiceover, undoubtedly being broadcast through the ship as had been done before. He heard the apology, the explanation, all of it. That the military leader had used the power to wipe out his enemies and guarantee his ascension into the controller of his universe's fate. Heard how the first ship was sent, with a lone controller, whose memory was later erased. And a fortunate thing for the Federation it was, for he had become Critch Starblade, Operations chief of the U.S.S. _Maximillian_, instead of Critch Starblade, destroyer of the future.

The images ended, and Starblade's face returned to the small viewscreen. Lyon sensed that they were alone again. The android looked saddened, yet determined, as he spoke directly to his Admiral.

"There's something else, Rob …the vessel isn't heading for Earth at all."

"We know. It's going to the sun. Probably just a convenient place to start picking out planets, one by one."

Then the screen changed again, showing a bright sun, yellow filling the screen and Lyon had to place a hand over his eyes for fear of being blinded. Slowly, the screen zoomed out, and the crystal vessel moved towards the sun until it was quickly enveloped in it. The screen zoomed out more, and Lyon could make out planets, and slowly he realized just where they were. Earth's solar system.

It was at this point when the sun exploded, and Lyon experienced the same shock and horror that Starblade had felt when he had first seen it. The android continued as the shockwave ebbed outward, wiping out the simulated planets. "Earth is still the target; they knew it was the seat of power, so they'll take it out first. Then wipe out others along the line." As Starblade spoke, the vessel reappeared, soaring off in another direction, and the screen returned to the android again. "I got away from my counterpart, but I don't have much time. This ship is run off a number of redundant power cores, but there is a main one that controls the rest. It's identical to the others, but I can find it. When I do, I need you and the rest of the whole damn fleet to blow the hell out of it as fast as you can. Use whatever weapons you have, just do it. You were right, Rob. You were right."

"Critch, I…I don't know if I can believe all this."

"Damn it, Rob, I can't DO this without you! There isn't much time left, and you have one chance to do this. I'm going, with or without you. If you're not there, I'm going to die, and so will everything we've worked so hard to build, everything everyone's built for thousands of years. Make a good choice, and I'll contact you when I'm there. I have to go, we're out of time."

Starblade looked around him nervously, and then the screen went dark. And Lyon sat alone in his chair, mulling over the new information. And then he realized this was a time for action, not for indecision. He rose from his chair, and straightened his uniform. He then left his quarters, and gave a brief salute to the guard that had been reluctantly posted, as was the rule whenever someone was confined to their living space. The guard instinctively saluted back, and Lyon noted a look of pride in the young security guard's face. He realized that the guard had seen Starblade's latest broadcast, and realized that he was going to be allowed to leave.

The same look of pride was seen in the faces of everyone Lyon passed on the way to the bridge, and he noted that the android was able to cancel out the previous message, and restore their faith in their Admiral, that this mad quest might just be worth it after all, to defend their homes from this new invading force. It seemed everyone believed in Lyon again.

Everyone, indeed, except for Lyon himself.

Shoving his self-doubt aside for the duration, he entered the bridge. Kelvok, acting as Captain, called out to the scattered bridge crew. "Admiral on the bridge." And all eyes were on Lyon, and all were at attention. Even, grudgingly, Admiral T'Kill. Blobbin had formed his own sarcastic response, acting as though he was going to make a rude gesture, and then simply waved at Lyon.

Sighing at the expected response, Lyon muttered a "At ease." And crossed past Kelvok, as the acting Captain of the _Maximillian_ sat back into the center seat. He approached T'Kill at his station. T'Kill, who had sat back down as soon as possible, looked uncomfortable, but still met his gaze sternly.

"Do you really think we can trust him?" They both knew who the half-Romulan was referring to.

Lyon sighed, and crouched next to him, preferring to keep this conversation as private as possible, even with the busy, though still damaged, bridge around them. He whispered to his friend. "I don't see where we have much choice. He did make a mistake, and he will have to face that. But there are more important things right now. We have to stop this thing, and he might be our only shot."

"And if it's a trap?"

"We're already dead, Turock, that thing could have destroyed us, but didn't. I think it was because of him. He says he can get us a shot at the core of this thing, I think we need to take him up on his offer."

"Because of what you made him? Because he may have just saved your career?"

"Because he's the last chance we have. Blobbin's weapons are good, but it's going to happen quickly. We may not have enough time without the information he can provide."

"Rob…" T'Kill sighed heavily. "If we lose Earth…We can still win…"

Lyon shook his head briskly. "It's not about Earth any more. You saw the video. You know what it can do. Even after Earth's destruction, the vessel will survive, and move on to another one. And another. We have to stop this before it really starts. We have one chance."

"So, you've decided to ride on out like the great Lyon that you are." Blobbin's sarcastic, and rather loud, tone called out as he pudged toward the Admirals. He, of course, had heard the entire conversation, knowing that he was entitled to know whatever was going on.

Lyon took in a breath, not turning his head to face the mercury-being. "I assumed that there was no longer any need for me to be locked in my quarters, considering the new information."

T'Kill met his gaze again. "You're assuming a lot."

"Part of the job."

Blobbin wiggled his head, a sign of impatience for the Errsedorian. "All right, so we're buddy-buddy, whatever, are you going to sit in the chair again? Because we haven't had nearly enough catastrophes for one day, I think."

Lyon stared at the command chair, once his greatest dream. He was amazed at how easily his passion and compulsions had led him back into that seat, even breaking the confidences of trusted officers.

He willed the strength for his decision to come to him.

"Blobbin, for once, I think you're right. There'll be a lot more disasters before we're done. However, it won't be me in charge of them." He turned, and looked at Blobbin, who suddenly became very afraid.

"Whoa no, you're not sitting me in there! Once was bad enough!"

Lyon chuckled. "No, I don't think so. Captain Kelvok is doing well enough. However…" He looked back at T'Kill. "He will need guidance and support. And it is long past time for the Admiralty of this ship to become what I intended it to become. Advisors."

Both T'Kill and Blobbin breathed a sigh of relief, Blobbin's much more obvious. T'Kill stood slowly. "Good, then I'm going to go 'advise' Tamak to get us moving. We're going to need every second we can get before your friend gets us killed." Before Lyon could say anything, T'Kill quickly moved up, and out of the Bridge.

Blobbin smirked. "I always knew the kid would be good for something. Gets him out of my space, and I can finish tuning my weapons!" He smiled with Errsedorian glee, and then moved back to his console, resuming his work.

Lyon stood, facing the viewscreen, watching the stars move toward and past him as he moved with the _Maximillian_ through space, feeling hope spring within him. It wasn't much, but it was something to hold on to, as the universe fell apart around him.

For Critch Starblade, it was now the moment of truth. He stared out onto the landscape of the vessel, knowing the path he would now have to take, moving so far in such a short amount of time. Not until he had studied the vessel's layout did he realize exactly how large and wide the power system was, and how far he would have to go. From one end of the vessel to the other, in less than an hour before they arrived at their destination. Where Lyon and the _Maximillian_ awaited him, hopefully. Waited for him to fulfill the promise he had given. He would have to take the journey at a full run, pushing his systems to their absolute limit, even farther than they had been when he was being pursued, and then climb several meters to reach the main core junction. Even there, he would have to access the communications relays, contact the Max, and find a way to bring this ship fully into this universe. All while not attracting the attention of his enemy, and before the vessel reached the heart of the sun, where all would be lost, and the last hope of the universe would be quenched.

Taking a last, deep breath, using the stale tasting air for fuel, he launched himself down the walkway, beginning his race against time.


	19. Timing

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Nineteen: Timing

It could be said that the interior of the vessel became more beautiful the faster you went through it. What had been a dreary brown landscape with occasional dots of color denoting the different sections became a mesh of sensations, a rainbow like view that would make one think that this would be the ideal way to show it off, to display the handiwork of its creator. And in fact, this would not be too far from the truth. The Marconian designers, knowing the capabilities of those that would be inhabiting the vessel for long periods of time, designed its vast size around defense, separating the main departments by vast areas of space, which also served to connect the redundant power sources, the great cores. Walking from one end to the other would take too much time, so it was highly recommended that the overseers of the vessel use haste when moving between locations.

The beauty was not lost on Starblade as he moved his legs, pumping them as fast as he could, propelling his body through the spaces. He did not let it distract him; indeed nothing could at this juncture. Only by reaching his destination and accomplishing his goal, and through it providing some sort of restitution for what he had done, and inadvertently caused, would he finally be able to rest, though what fate after that awaited him he did not know. At this point, he wasn't even sure what universe he would end up in.

He fully expected court-martial from the Federation, and at this point he couldn't blame them. He had disobeyed a direct order from one of the highest ranking Admirals in the fleet, and what's worse had accused him of a great destruction, when in fact he himself was responsible. While he doubted he would ever relay that fact to Lyon, he knew he would carry that guilt for the rest of his life, however long that would be.

His other option, of course, was to journey to his home universe, and face justice. There, he truly was lost on what to expect. It was possible they would welcome him back as a thought-lost conquering hero. Or would they see him as a traitor, somehow watching the events unfold as they were happening now? Regardless, he had made a promise to Karei, who had saved his life and perhaps by doing so this universe along with it. He owed it to the strange creature to at least make an effort to return. Someone had to speak for the Ka-Ki-Ri. In a universe that seemed without reason, he wondered if anyone would listen.

Starblade ran on, through the reds and yellows, and past many large cores. He still could not see his destination in the distance, and it worried him. His internal chronometer told him he had roughly a few hours left before the vessel reached its destination, and he was still pressed to the absolute limit to reach even the corridor he would have to climb before his time was up. He was also worried about the _Maximillian_'s ability to reach Earth in that allotted time, as he had no idea how damaged they were. But he trusted in his shipmates, if they even would be his shipmates again. He believed Tamak could get the engines online, if anyone could, and he would rather have Admiral Lyon at the helm than any other Captain alive. Hope remained alive, and he welcomed its presence. There had been far too many days where it had left him.

His feet flew, and if he had wings, he would have lifted off the ground with the effort he was putting out. Critch Starblade moved closer to his goal, trying desperately to figure out how he was going to get there in time, and just what the hell he was going to do when he arrived.

Down in the bright Engineering bay of the _Maximillian_, Admiral Turock T'Kill marveled at how quickly everything had been taken care of. Commander Tamak, having quickly filled in for the recently deceased Lieutenant Thomas, had pushed his team to do nothing less than their best work. And even though the stress level was high with the recent events, each and every one of them had responded well to Tamak's low-key approach. Because of this, the ship was now speeding towards its destination at a hair under Warp 5. But this wasn't fast enough for the Admiral. Not nearly.

Besides all that, with nothing more that could be done until they reached Earth, it would be a good chance to see how his friend was doing, and take a deep breath. The half-human/half-Romulan had been at high alert for this entire voyage, and had found little time to actually have a conversation with anyone outside of Lyon or Blobbin, if you could even call their endless arguments conversations. He and Tamak had found a connection when they met over the ancient game of Earth 'football', a long since passed practice that had little to do with the feet and m ore to do with the game of Rugby. Their friendship had continued on from there. However, since this disastrous mission had begun, they had not said more than a few words to each other. Tamak, being a Vulcan, would not mind, of course, but it bothered T'Kill. One of the problems with his rank, he supposed. But he at least wanted to have the chance to speak with him before they all died, and that time seemed to be fast approaching.

He spotted Tamak, going over something on a console. His sharp eyes went over every detail, and he made no outward appearance that he had noticed T'Kill, that is except for voicing a welcome.

"Greetings, Admiral. We are working to increase the speed incrementally."

"Good work. How are things going down here?"

"Well. Lieutenant Thomas's staff is extremely capable, and they work to honor her memory in their actions."

T'Kill smirked. "Pulled that old chestnut out again, did you?" Among the Admiralty, Tamak was famous for trotting out what some would consider clichés to inspire his men. The strange part of it was that even if the crew had heard it before, Tamak said it in such a way that it always achieved its desired purpose.

"So it would seem." Tamak lowered his voice slightly, not interested in having the discussion broadcast all through the department. "I assume you are not pleased with the revelations concerning Commander Starblade."

T'Kill let out a sigh. "I'd be fine if I could believe the robot. But with everything that he's done in the past few hours, I don't think I have it in me to do that anymore."

Tamak nodded. "If I may speak freely, I believe it goes deeper than that. You have never outwardly trusted Commander Starblade, and perhaps rightly so. He has worrisome tendencies, such as being headstrong, and slightly naïve. Regardless, he and Admiral Lyon are friends, and that is a strong bond. I do not believe Commander Starblade would ever purposefully damage that connection."

"And if he's being controlled…"

"As we have seen, if he's being controlled there would be no reason for it. The unidentified vessel's powers far exceed our own, and if not for Commander Starblade, we may not even still be here. It is only logical to assume, therefore, that he is operating of his own mind."

"Tamak, where Starblade is concerned, there isn't much logic."

"You are correct."

They were interrupted when a call came through from the bridge suddenly. The voice was, surprisingly, not Lyon's, but Kelvok's. It seemed that Lyon was making good on his pledge not to return to the Captain's chair. Not that it would make a large difference one way or another at this point.

"Admiral T'Kill, we are five minutes away from Earth at current speeds." T'Kill glanced at the ceiling briefly. "On my way." He nodded towards Tamak. "Doesn't look like we'll need that extra speed after all."

As he headed out, Tamak called out to him. "I shall continue working until otherwise ordered. It would be preferable to go into battle with all of our abilities at full strength."

"Right." T'Kill entered the turbolift, and growled at himself as it began to move. He was wishing to talk about anything but the current situation. Unfortunately, the exact opposite had happened. The turbolift moved quickly, delivering Admiral T'Kill to the bridge.

He composed his thoughts along the way, knowing there would be quite a few questions coming his way, to say nothing of how Lyon would be treated. He wondered if there was any way to hide Lyon away from the Federation Council and the Admirals that would greet the _Maximillian_ upon her arrival. Of course, he theorized, if he had any way to do that, he would have hidden Blobbin away years ago.

He walked out of the turbolift just as Kelvok called for the view to be placed onscreen. And what a view it was. Despite this not being his home, T'Kill marveled at the beauty of the home of the Federation, always making a point to view it from his offices on the orbiting station whenever possible.

Earth sat in the sky as it always had, it's blue richness seeming to expand beyond its borders, threatening to spill out into the blackness. Surrounding the orb were the usual satellites and space stations, but none of any size as to ruin the sight.

At this point, however, the main thing that drew the eye was the multitudes of vessels surrounding the planet. Vessels from every era of Starfleet, from the early class vessels to the very latest declassified ships of the line. From Oberth to Prometheus, they were all here, called together by the highest levels of

Starfleet for the defense of the planet, and their very existence beyond that.

"We're being hailed, Cap…uh, sirs." Still a little unsure at whom truly was in command of the _Maximillian_, the ensign filling in at Communications stated, and Kelvok looked at Lyon.

"I believe they'll be expecting you, Admiral."

"Depends on how much they've heard." Blobbin muttered, as Lyon stood, and nodded at T'Kill, who took his place at the front console. Kelvok moved to the rear of the room, and stood in a sort of relaxed attention while Lyon sat again in the center seat; though he assured himself that this time it was to be only temporary, for the duration of the discussion with… whoever was contacting them. Sitting up straight, he nodded at the Ensign, and turned his full attention to the viewscreen.

The face that appeared on the screen was unexpected, and Lyon showed it by leaning back smoothly. Of all the Admirals that the Federation had in this quadrant, he was surprised that she was the one that was in charge of this stage of the operation. He smirked. "Admiral Janeway, I wasn't aware you were in charge of things here."

Nonplussed, the middle-aged former Captain smiled. "Only for the moment, fortunately. The real Admirals are still arranging to pull as much of the fleet as they can."

He nodded. "ETA of the vessel is a few minutes shy of three hours. How many can we get?"

Her friendly expression turned serious. "Not as many as I'd like. As it is, we can barely get the _Enterprise_ back in time."

Blobbin muttered an "Oh goody." As Lyon continued.

"Admiral T'Kill will be assuming command of the fleet. There has been a change of plans." T'Kill stood up, startled, as Lyon rose, gesturing to the half-Romulan to take his place in the center seat. Lyon and T'Kill passed each other, T'Kill still surprised at his sudden role. But he swallowed his surprise as he settled into the chair.

Janeway kept her stern expression. "T'Kill, I sure hope you can tell me what the hell is going on over there."

"I'm not sure if any of us know any more than you do. We have a…agent on board the vessel. He's informed us…"

"I know full well what you've been informed. I do have my sources, Admiral. What I need to know, is he trustworthy?"

T'Kill took a breath, and glanced at Lyon. Staring him in the eyes for a few seconds, T'Kill brought his gaze back to Janeway. "He's going to have to be."

"Not what I wanted to hear."

Lyon interrupted. "Admiral, excuse me. Commander Starblade is a bit…unconventional, to say the least. And you know what's happened on this mission. He's been on a quest to find out his past since we activated him. And it's because of me. He has every right to turn his back on the Federation, and instead he's trying to save us."

Janeway placed a hand on her head, as though fighting back a migraine. "But is he trustworthy?"

Lyon did not blink. "I believe so."

Janeway sat back, folding her hands in front of her. "You know, there are quite a few Admirals here that would just lock the whole lot of you up for the duration, damn the consequences." She took a breath. "Fortunately, I hold the swing vote. Ok, the android is our inside man, he's going to get us enough access to shut it down. What else?"

Blobbin didn't so much stand in his seat as he did rise. "My weapons are ready over here, but I'm going to get on the older ships to fix some screw-up's with the compatibility, and I'm also going to need a few hands."

"You've got two hours, and Captain Scott's team. What else." It was not a question as much as it was a statement.

T'Kill answered, a plan he had been working on earlier returning to his mind. "The _Maximillian_ will be the flagship. I want ever y other ship between Earth and the sun. I'll explain more as we go, but I want this thing going right through an armada of Federation ships."

"And the _Maximillian_?"

"Flanking, we've had the most experience with the vessel. The armada wears it down, we knock it out. Every piece of information we get from Starblade, you'll get."

Janeway nodded, a slight smile returning to her face. "Sounds like a plan. Times ticking, let's get to work."

Blobbin began to pudge to the transporter bay almost before the viewscreen switched back to the view of the ships, and T'Kill took his place at the Operations console. Very little time left, and so much yet to do…

There was a clock moving inside of Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade's head. It was counting down, but like a well-crafted time bomb, there was no way of knowing when the countdown would be completed. All he knew was that with every step he took, and every moment that passed by, another opportunity was lost. With every second, a chance to turn the tide was gone forever, and what he and the _Maximillian_ had to work with lessened somewhat. He pushed himself harder, towards his unseen destination, and the countdown continued.

"Aye, laddie, it'll be a stretch, but it'll hold for as long as you're asking it to." Captain Montgomery Scott looked over the plans for the quick rigging of the shielding and weapon systems for the various systems, and quickly judged it. Even with the crash course he had to undertake in Errsedorian engineering, to say nothing of the massive amount of learning he had done since his reawakening in the 24th century, he was still able to accurately understand what the devices would do, and how the power would move through the systems without shorting out the rest of the ship.

"Spiffy! How long?" Blobbin peered at the designs, proud of his quick work.

"Oh…I dinna think it'll take too long. Four hours should do the trick."

"Great, 'cept for the part where we only have two. That'll get it done."

Scott sighed. "Two it'll have to be, then."

"Look at it this way, you don't have a green-blooded freak breathing down your neck to get this done, and I've got at least twelve other ships to work this out in!"

Scott chuckled a bit. "I know what that's like, Admiral. We'll get a move on, and fight the…whatever it happens to be."

"Fantabulous." Blobbin gave a rare respectful salute, and then moved quickly away, onto this next task, while the graying engineer shook his head. Just when he had finally gotten over the strangeness of Changelings and the rest of the races of this century, now there's things like this running around as Admirals! 'Scotty' got to work then, putting his feelings behind him as he dove into the task at hand, knowing full well that his reputation as a 'miracle worker' was on the line, to say nothing of what else was at stake here.

At last, Starblade could at least see his destination. It was still far off, just at the very reaches of his enhanced vision, but at least it was there, which was comforting. A massive tower, soaring straight up into the top of the vessel. He didn't waste a single cycle worrying about what he would do when he reached it. There was no time for worry. He would figure it out when he reached it. All there was to do now was to watch and listen for his enemy's presence, as he had to have recovered from the fall by now. Indeed, with the vessel being so close to arriving at Earth, and beyond that Earth's sun, he knew that there had to be some processes that were too precious for automation. His twin would make sure that the mission would be completed before coming after the android, and Starblade held onto that hope for all that it was worth, knowing that those few seconds would be most important, if it wasn't already too late. Putting his head down, he continued his run, blocking everything else out but the sounds around him, concentrating on moving just a little bit faster with every motion of his body.

Lyon shook his head, too busy poring over the reports coming in from the Starfleet ships moving into position to pay much attention to what Turock T'Kill was saying. "We've done all we can, Turock. Blobbin is finishing up on the _Columbus_, and then will be back here for the duration."

T'Kill could not hide his aggravation. "I didn't ask what the puddle was doing. I was telling you that a little notice might have made this go a little bit more smoothly."

Admiral Lyon sighed. "Up until about an hour ago, Admiral, you were pushing me towards a court-martial. Now you're upset because I chose you to lead the fleet. Would you have preferred I chose…?"

"It's not about that!" T'Kill forgot where he was, and his voice carried over to the rest of the bridge. However, with the preparations in full swing, there was little attention paid. T'Kill composed himself. "You do this every time, Rob! Making your decisions and to hell with what other people think about it!"

"Part of my character." Lyon gazed at a padd an Ensign had just handed to him, and nodded at it. "I'm impulsive. Frankly, I'm not sure why you've put up with it for so long."

T'Kill breathed softly. "And why I'll continue to put up with it. But damn it, Rob, why now, of all times, to sit me in the hot seat?"

"Technically, Kelvok is in the hot seat here, at least. You'll be too busy with the rest of the fleet."

"You know what I mean."

"Right. Turock, you've proved yourself capable a hundred times over of leading a fight like this, God knows that you've got the Max out of tough situations before. It's big, yeah, but space is a big place. Time to stretch your arms; earn those stars you're so proud of.

"If this adventure has proved nothing, Turock, it's proved that I'm getting too old for this. Trying to hold on to things I should have let go of years ago. You don't have that problem. I just faced this test and failed. Now it's your turn."

T'Kill chuckled, shaking his head. "So all this is a test, huh. My own personal _Kobayshi Maru_?"

Lyon smiled. "Just don't screw up. Lot more than just a few civilian ships on the line here."

Turock just stared straight ahead at the formations of dozens of ships moved together, blocking off the path from Earth to Sol.

The tower was even more massive than Starblade had realized, as he finally slowed to a stop. There was no breath to catch for the android, and his mind immediately shifted to discovering a path up it. He quickly came to the conclusion that the endless rows of etchings and designs would work as footholds and handholds. There was no time for any fear to enter the equation, as time was up. Out of the corner of his eye he could see, far off beyond the vessel's hull, the shining star that they had come to destroy. And nearer still, the planet that the Federation called home. It looked peaceful, as if there was no great last stand being planned, but there was not a moment to dwell on these implications. Instead, the decision was made. He began to climb.

"All ships in position, Admiral." Blobbin announced to the bridge, his jovial face masking the nervousness they all felt, even he, though a quick change by him attempted to lighten the mood, as small butterfly shapes seemed to dance literally inside his stomach. Turock ignored this, and muttered to himself, as the ship settled behind Earth's small moon, overlooking the cities of the grey planetoid. "If nothing else, this is going to look damn impressive."

As the android climbed faster than time and safety allowed, and as the ships of the Federation drew together, the Marconian vessel, the pride of their entire fleet, moved towards the planet Earth. As the members of the various crews held their collective breath, the vessel moved past the blue planet, not moving anywhere near it's atmosphere, not making any threatening overtures it's way at all. Instead, just as the mission had said, the vessel soared through the blackness, moving ever closer to its true goal, Sol.

The vessel did not hesitate nor slow, as if it was not expecting any challenge to its mission. From out of the light of the sun several shapes cam e to life, running lights first, and then full power and spectacle was brought to bear as a total of forty-seven Federation ships, with names as honorable and famous as

_Enterprise, Columbus_ and _Bozeman_, moved out of the yellow, presenting a clear blockade to the alien invader's designs on destruction of all that they knew.

If the vessel, or anything inside of it, felt threatened, it did not show it. The rate of speed did not change perceptively, and as one, the forty-seven ships called for red alert as it passed Earth's moon, directly on course, and exactly as predicted.

As it passed, the one ship unaccounted for emerged from the moon's shadow. The U.S.S. _Maximillian _matched the speed and velocity of its enemy and followed closely behind, all weapons targeting the vessel, shields to maximum. Forty-eight ships, Forty-eight commanders now waited for the order, as the vessel moved within firing range.

Admiral Turock T'Kill looked at Admiral Lyon, looked at the bridge crew of the _Maximillian_, and waited for the next move; a move that he suspected may not come at all.

And time, as always, was nearly gone.


	20. Frequencies

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Twenty: Frequencies

The Crystal shaped vessel moved smoothly between the rows of ships lined up to prevent its passage. It went so gracefully that it was hard to tell if it had changed its course, simply going about its way as though the blockade simply did not exist. Matching every movement with one of its own, the U.S.S. _Maximillian_ trailed the vessel.

Admiral T'Kill watched as the panels lit up in front of him, each one asking for either permission to fire upon the vessel, or simply for further instructions. As Captain Kelvok guided the ship, T'Kill glanced over at Admiral Lyon. Lyon looked back at him, a small pleading look on his face. T'K ill took his meaning, and held back his instincts to strike at the vessel, to do what damage they could before it reached it's horrible destination. Instead, he tapped his console softly, and spoke.

"Defensive formation Omega Epsilon." He ended his statement, and sat back in his chair.

Forty-eight ships of the Federation formed a loose orb around the vessel, all equaling its velocity. It was as though a sphere flowed through space now, a sphere made up of the most technologically advanced ships known to the galaxy, and at its core, a wholly unknown vessel of unimaginable power. To an outside observer, it could be considered a thing of beauty. To the thousands of beings of all species on the Federation ships, it was a terrible necessity. They all feared the coming battle, and the vessel's destructive abilities.

To Admiral T'Kill, the fear did not matter. All that resounded in his head was what had to be done, and the unlikelihood of their success, what with all that still lay ahead. He looked back at Lyon, whose face still had a pleading quality in it now, however it seemed to now be directed at the vessel, and at the friend that lay within it.

The climb was unending, and even to an android, it seemed to be more than could be withstood. The battle within Starblade's head raged on, whether to simply stop and drop back below, to a hard ground that could no longer be seen, and find some other way to finish this, or to continue the climb higher, even though from the sight of the stars above and the edges of the vessel's height, it seemed as if he had only just begun.

He put his head down, sighed, but still the android climbed. The lights of the tower, built for unknown reasons but obviously for important ones related to the inner workings of the Marconian vessel, irritated his eyes as they slowly moved past his vision. The hand holds that at first looked so promising were grating into his synthetic flesh, and as the minutes slowly ticked on he simply could not will himself to move upward any faster. The only thing that comforted him was that there were no signs of battle around the vessel, and therefore the _Maximillian_ was doing their part on holding off the rest of the Federation from a likely fatal mistake. Starting the final battle now would be premature from what he had in mind. Though there was still worry. There was no sign of anything else other than this vessel in the area. Where there was hope, there was also hesitation.

His climb slowed, and he looked upward, and saw the far off lights of stars that could one day be snuffed out just as easily as Earth's sun was about to be. The hoped for motivation did not come, and it was still difficult at best to continue the climb. Though his android abilities should not have allowed it, his all-too-human thoughts made him act and feel as though his muscles were ready to give out, and he finally stopped, gasping for breath, looking one final time at the blackness above. A simple ray of light caught his eye, and he looked at a strange bit of grayness. He soon noted another grey blotch, out of place in the black depths, and another. And then, as he slowly realized what the blotches were, he saw the one thing in the universe that could still give him hope.

The Starship _Maximillian_ appeared, soaring just over the top of the vessel, and with his enhanced vision, in full view of Starblade. He saw the lights of the Max, and imagined he could see the people within. His friends, waiting on him to accomplish his mission. How dare he let them down.

He began to move again, the imagined pain in his arms and legs forgotten. He climbed with speed even he never would have thought he was capable of. Easily doubling his earlier best, the android no longer thought about failure or falling, only reaching his destination. The thoughts of his fellow shipmates were all that was on his mind as the steep ascent continued, and it was all he could see, until, minutes later, as though as out of a dream, he reached the summit of this dark mountain. The tower stalled out onto a flat plane, perfectly round, and stable. Starblade was able to pull up his tired body onto the surface, and stood up, glancing above him , noticing that after about a ten yard gap, the tower simply began again, with no noticeable supports or structures, just another impossibly long climb up to whatever level it reached.

It didn't matter at all to him, as he gazed across a bridge that moved back and forth, as of under its own will, to a large ring of what appeared to be the same catwalks that he had spent so much time on this vessel clambering over. Coming out from that ring, slowly extending, retracting, and rotating around, was another series of bridges, and at the end of the bridges was a large column of yellow light, surrounded by panels and operating stations. At once Starblade realized he had reached his destination. The controlling power source of this vessel. He sighed, almost giddy. "At least something's going right today." He muttered to himself, as he quickly ran across the first bridge, hoping that the rightmost control panel was exactly what he thought it was: a communications station. He had a call to make.

As the _Maximillian_ soared overhead of the crystal vessel, Lyon simply stared at the viewscreen, watching the views of the various Federation ships in the background, silently willing them not to break formation and fire before their time. Any mistake now would cost them their lives, not to mention the lives of every soul within the range of the destructive wave caused by the elimination of Sol. He hoped they all knew that, certainly everyone on this ship did.

He spared a glance toward the vessel every time it came into view, and he willed the message to come through. It was all up to Lieutenant Commander Starblade now, mounting his unknown mission to make the vessel vulnerable. Lyon had no idea what the task was that the android was undertaking; only that it was perilous, and there was a small chance that they never would hear from him. From the infrequent looks that T'Kill was throwing, Lyon knew that they would have to make a move soon. It may be the wrong decision, but if Starblade failed, there would be no other choice.

He didn't believe in such things, but Lyon began to will Starblade to contact them, to live through whatever adversity he was experiencing, and to somehow make it back to them. If none of them were to survive this, which was what Lyon half expected, then at least let them have the opportunity to stop the devious plan from becoming reality.

Minutes passed. T'Kill cleared his throat, and glanced back at Kelvok. Kelvok merely nodded back, affirming the readiness of his ship. T'Kill reached out a finger towards his communications panel then, giving an apologetic look at Lyon as he prepared to contact the fleet.

An instant before he tapped the panel that would send the signal off to start the attack, there was a high-pitched squeal that echoed throughout the ship. The vast screech caused most of the ship's personnel to cover their ears and grimace, T'Kill among them. As he tried to maintain his composure, he feared this to be a new weapon, and from the looks of things, a fairly effective one. Trying to block it out from his senses, he went to complete the order, but once again, just as he was about to hit the panel, he was interrupted. The screeching sound stopped as suddenly as it started, and was replaced by a lone voice.

"Hello? _Maximillian_? _Maximillian_, this is Starblade, do you read? Are you there?"

T'Kill gave a relieved sigh as he looked at Lyon. It was his show now, as far as he was concerned. Knowing this, Lyon stood. "We're here, Commander. Are you at the destination?"

There was a moment of silence and a bit of static before Starblade could answer. "More or less. This is the main power station, and I think I can rig this thing to change the frequency. Don't get too close. This place is bigger than it looks."

"Understood, Commander." Without a word, T'Kill began issuing orders to the Fleet to expand their perimeter. As the ships began to spread further out, Starblade continued.

"Bear with me here, Admiral, I'm going to have to be a bit creative. You'll know when this thing's able to be hit."

Blobbin spoke up, his usual touch of whimsy evident. "Anywhere in particular we should hit this thing?"

Starblade seemed to think for a moment before he answered. "I'll try to send some kind of signal over once I'm ready to go, I…" There was another large squealing sound, bringing another round of squinting and ear-covering, and then silence. Lyon glanced back at the communications center, and the ensign shook his head. He looked back up at the viewscreen.

"Commander Starblade? Commander Starblade?" No response. The signal had been cut off at its source, for no apparent reason. Lyon turned around. "Leave that channel open; we need to get back in contact with him!"

T'Kill began giving orders to the Fleet again. Lyon glanced over to him, concern in his eyes. T'Kill merely glanced back down at the panel, speaking as he did. "I'm telling them to prepare to fire the torpedoes. Very little time left, Rob."

Lyon nodded. If he knew anything else, he surely knew that.

The signal had been cut off sharply, but not as sharp as the end of the pole that had pierced Starblade's hand. The pole had gone through the synthetic flesh and machinery, and through the communications console as well, sending sparks down onto the catwalk floor. Not feeling pain, just anxiousness and a twinge of annoyance, he looked up at the source of the interruption. There stood his doppelganger, looking now as unlike the android as he ever had. Where the calm looking individual once stood, now stood a picture of seething rage. Canty looked at Starblade with nothing but hate now, as he begin to spit out his anger.

"You dare come here, challenge me, turn my slave against me, and now attempt sabotage against YOUR VESSEL? The vessel of Marconia? The vessel of your people?"

Starblade just looked at him with pity on his face. "If my people would destroy an entire universe in the name of conquest and revenge, then they aren't my people any longer."

Canty looked back, incredulous. "Who do you think you are?"

The android slowly removed the pole from the console, and slid it out of his hand. Looking at the hole, he opened and closed his hand, satisfied that he had lost no major functionality. Then he looked back at his enemy, and he finally, after years of wondering, he knew.

"I'm Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade, Operations Chief, of the Federation starship _Maximillian_. You're trespassing in my universe. This is your last chance to turn around and go home, or face the consequences."

Canty shook his head slowly, unbelieving in what he was hearing. "You…You truly are a fool. I had hoped that I could still bring you back to Marconia, and restore your mind." He pulled another pole off of a railing, causing a short gap, and spun it a few times, brandishing it as a weapon even as Starblade raised his as though it was a samurai sword, into a loose approximation of a salute. "Instead, 'Lieutenant Commander Critch Starblade', I will simply destroy you and everything you have ever known." With that statement, he lunged at the android. He reacted quickly, and came at his twin, and the poles hit each other loud enough to sound with a resounding clash, and a solitary spark leaped off of the collision, falling through the small holes of the catwalk, and down through the bowels of the vessel.

As the fleet circled the vessel, T'Kill's hand neared the panel again, and while Lyon was giving him a look of pleading patience, the Romulan just shook his head sadly. "We're out of time, Rob. I'm sorry." With that his finger tapped the panel a few times, and the orders were sent.

As one, forty-eight Federation ships received a simple order: Launch the Errsedorian torpedoes, and remotely detonate them when they are close enough to the vessel to cause subspace dam age. This, unfortunately, was the backup plan should Starblade fail, which at this point looked very likely. Forty-eight ships of various constructions all executed these orders immediately, and each began a barrage with everything they had. As the _Maximillian, Sovereign, Asgard_ and other ships put some distance between themselves and the vessel, the brilliant blue lights soared toward their destination.

As they entered empty space, well past the Federation ships but close to the vessel, one or two actually seemingly occupying the same space as the vessel, the ships began to execute the remote detonation sequences. One by one, as though linked, the torpedoes began to explode in space. The effect to the ships was minimal, as most were far enough away to not have any damage done to them. Even the closest ships were only rocked by the explosions for a second. But the vessel, even in its current form, felt the attacks keenly. The shockwaves from the blasts carried their power through subspace, and the damage, though small when compared to the overall size of the vessel, still could be considered quite destructive. Several panels, stations, and various constructions were caught in the waves of wind and sound, ripping them from their positions and throwing them across the vessel. Even one redundant power core was destroyed by the flying debris, though there were a hundred more where that came from. The deadly hail rained down upon the vessel savagely and without mercy, as those sending it were truly fighting for their lives.

Still, as the explosions grew in number, the fight continued for the two foes at the station surrounding the main power core. They parried each other's blows at impossible speeds, striking in every direction. It was fierce, yet almost poetic; as the two were identical in almost every way, save for the clothing and their existence itself. They fought in the same style, and even the grunts that were let out when a single blow made it through the considerable defense were nigh-identical. The battle seemed it would go on forever.

Starblade was ready for this battle to end, as he decided to try a different approach from his hard-wired battle plans. Instead of parrying a blow, he ducked out of its way, delivering a well-timed thrust that caught his opponent off guard. Canty moved backwards, narrowly avoiding being run through with the pole, as Starblade pressed his advantage, swinging left, then right, then slashing downwards, keeping Canty backing up, towards the railing on the south side of the core controls, and moving him towards his real destination: A panel where he could change the operating frequency of the vessel!

As he approached the railing, Canty decided to make an unexpected move of his own, dodging backwards one more time, and jumped on the railing, his feet balancing precariously yet gracefully on the smooth pole. Then he jumped, flipping as he did so, twisting in the air until he landed directly behind Starblade, and then, as the android turned around, he kicked him in the chest with all the force he could muster, sending his twin back several feet. Staring his enemy in the eye, Canty advanced.

The barrage was ongoing, but neither of them noticed the destruction occurring all around them. The _Enterprise_ fired another barrage of torpedoes, it's sixth, and one found its way to a junction point far above them before its detonation sequence was activated. As Starblade and Canty_'s_ two poles came

together hard, pressing together, each trying to break the other one's cleanly, the torpedo exploded, and the shockwave tore a gash into the mass of tubing and equipment. The tear was large enough that the junction point was suddenly unable to sustain its own mass, and the artificial gravity asserted its hold upon it. It was not massive, but it was still fairly large, around the size of a standard shuttlecraft. And it was heading straight down towards the two combatants.

The fight was so desperate, the emotions so high, that neither combatant noticed the falling debris until it was almost too late. Only the shadow of the approaching machinery alerted Starblade to the impending disaster. Unfortunately, it was an unneeded distraction, as Canty took advantage of Starblade's lack of attention to land a blow with the metal pole across his face. Starblade's head snapped back with the blow, a red cut appearing on his cheek. As the shadow grew larger, Starblade quickly threw his fist backhanded, upper cutting the android, sending him back. He then threw himself backwards, narrowly missing being hit as the first of the tons of debris struck the ground.

He landed on his back, and quickly rose to his feet again, deftly dodging a few loose bits of machinery that were still falling from above. As his eyes went back to his enemy, he saw him, stranded on the other side of the machinery, pacing back and forth, trying to ascertain a path to Starblade in order to continue the battle. In the meantime, he merely stared at his double, his anger overriding his common sense, as Starblade glanced to his right, to the control console. Once Canty saw what he had noticed, he snarled at him. "Don't!"

Starblade smirked, and placed his hand on the console. As Canty yelled uselessly in anger, he thought as hard as he could, commanding the vessel to change its frequencies, to match this universe's.

There began a small rumbling, which grew in size and sound until it seemed to shake the entire vessel. As Starblade struggled to keep his footing, Canty stared at him in disbelief. "You fool…You have no idea what you've just done." And then he started to laugh, loudly and horrifyingly, as a white ripple effect began to spread throughout the vessel. Beginning at the very edges of their sight, it expanded and drew nearer him, coming at them with incredible speed. Before either of them reacted the light overtook them, but not with any force or weight. It merely passed through them, the same way it had passed through the rest of the ship. From the viewpoint of the android on the vessel nothing had changed, as they silently watched the fast moving light speed off to the other side of the vessel, out of their sight.

From outside the vessel, however, things were very different.

Admiral T'Kill stood slowly as he watched a light wave spread across space. He, as the rest of the bridge crew, stood amazed at what they were seeing. As the light moved, behind it slowly came into view a light brown construction, haphazardly formed, as though out of many different types of metals and materials. The light continued to move quickly, cutting an impressive swath of space. And everywhere the light moved, it left more of the construction behind it. Slowly they came to realize what exactly was happening, as the light passed over the crystal vessel, and then moved back again, covering already revealed ground.

Lyon tried to find words for what he was seeing, but all that made it out was a weak, "My…God…" The light slowly faded out, and what was left was a horrifying spectacle. The crystal shape was merely a figurehead for the vessel, as the actual ship was easily a hundred times larger than any of the Federation ships, including the_ Maximillian_. None of them could believe their eyes as the vessel revealed itself.

Too late did T'Kill glance at his panel, and notice the position of the _Sovereign_ starship itself, namesake for his ship's class, and one of the few flagships. He pounded his panel, yelling as he did so, "_Sovereign_, Back off! BACK OFF!" It was too late as he said it, he knew, as the final sections of the vessel faded in, and completely encompassed the _Sovereign_, and within a moment, it faded from the _Maximillian_'s sensors.

Starblade saw the _Sovereign_ appear, hidden by the frequencies that separated the universes until now. It faded into existence just as the vessel itself had appeared to the Federation; however one thing was different, and very wrong. As it faded in, half of it, a nacelle and several sections appeared on one side of a thick column. The other half appeared, bisected, cleanly on the other half. In the middle there appeared an instantaneous column of fire as the column seared directly through Engineering and many vital portions of the ship. Starblade closed his eyes and turned away as explosions engulfed the ship in flame, utterly destroying all aboard. A combined crew of over eight hundred people perished without reason or purpose, as Canty stood triumphant, looking at him with a fire in his eyes.

"You see, Critch! You see what you have done? What you have caused?"

Starblade looked at his hand; the hole cleanly tore through it, and formed it into a fist. Turning back towards Canty, he gave a defiant look.

"Not me. I did what I had to do to save my people. You are responsible, and you're going to pay."

Canty smiled. "Am I now?" He suddenly gave a savage yell, and leaped cleanly over a slightly smaller clump of destroyed machinery, resuming the battle.

The sweating Ensign called out from his station at the back of the bridge fearfully. "Captain, multiple power sources appearing on sensors! And several weapons platforms…can't get a lock on the configurations…all over the place!"

Kelvok nodded, calm as the eye of a hurricane, and glanced at T'Kill.

"Admiral, I would assume this would mean that we can begin?"

Blobbin, for once, didn't smile. "Batten down the hatches." As T'Kill tapped his console again, sending his voice out to the entire fleet.

"T'Kill to Joint Task Force Alpha. Errsedorian shielding and weaponry to maximum levels. Target as many power sources as you can. Fire at will."


	21. Battle

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Twenty-One : Battle

Hellfire seemed to rain down upon the immense vessel as the ships of the Federation began their attack. Forty-eight ships of various sizes and shapes began their attacks, the larger ships of _Sovereign_ and _Galaxy_ classes remaining steady, unleashing their immense payload down to their chosen targets, the multiple redundant power cores. The smaller ships, such as the _Akira, Defiant_, even a _Prometheus_ class ship, began close attack runs, hitting and running with their considerable power. They bobbed and weaved through the canyons of the rust-colored canyons of the mountainous vessel, seemingly constructed with no regard of sleekness or design, instead only for its destructive power. It made sense, since this vessel was never to be seen.

The ships of the Federation never moved from their battle plan, having seen the folly of moving even a step out of line with what had happened to the _Sovereign_. They moved in perfect harmony with each other as they executed the first step, bombarding the power cores with every kind of weapon they had at their commands. Not only the beefed-up Errsedorian Torpedoes, even though they were the most powerful of the lot, but also Quantum torpedoes, Photon torpedoes, and full phasers, striking with precision and even grace as the most skilled weapons operators in the fleet took the opportunity to prove their abilities, and showed why they deserved their positions.

For a few moments, T'Kill dared to hope that there would be no opposition, that the vessel was caught completely flat-footed by its reappearance and did not have their weapons ready. Indeed, it was a full minute before the vessel counterattacked the defenders. The Federation ships had complete control of the situation for that minute, striking with impunity.

"Seems a bit easy." Blobbin thought aloud.

"We caught them off guard. Critch is doing his job." Lyon had a soft smile as he said this. T'Kill wasn't convinced.

"Hopefully he'll keep it up." The Romulan glanced at his panels, making a quick decision to not change the plan layout to take advantage of the ship's apparent ignorance of the attack.

It was a good decision. A moment later, the whole of the crystal-shaped maidenhead began to glow bright white, just as large cylinders rose up from the vessel's surface. Inside the vessel, where a smaller but just as dire battle waged, the cylinders moved upward and into position, changing the layout slightly. The motion and grinding sounds were not noticed by the two combatants.

As the cylinders reached their peak, blue streaks of electricity began to surround them, as though they were overloading with immense power. Within an instant, the light on the crystal brightened even more, and then erupted with white beams, expertly targeted by the vessel's central systems. The beams hit their marks quickly, striking five Federation ships, sending them reeling. The Errsedorian shielding protected them from complete destruction, but they certainly were not without damage.

The _Maximillian_ was not one of the ships targeted, but T'Kill treated the attack as grimly as if it had been. "Report!"

"_Columbus, Asgard, Enterprise, Explorer II, Lagrange_ hit!"

"All heavy cruisers." Blobbin observed.

Sending a message to the fleet to boost power to shields, T'Kill glanced at the vessel on the viewscreen. "What's happening with those cylinders?"

The electricity streaming over the cylinders had only intensified, each one almost completely covered by a entanglement of blue. Just as it had reached a peak, the electricity disappeared. It was only a single breath before they began firing yellow bursts of energy into space. The yellow shots moved in tandem, and then suddenly veering off into seemingly random directions. They picked up speed, and then each one reached their destinations: A smaller vessel.

The _Prometheus_ was hit first, taking minimal damage. The _Akira_ was not so fortunate, having taken the electrical energy directly to their warp core. As it exploded quickly, it's flaming saucer flying and crashing on the surface of the vessel, the _Black Elk_ dove and spun out of the way, almost crashing itself before it's Captain corrected the course herself, moving the vessel as though it were a smaller shuttle, flying between two cylinders before regaining its place in the sky, and resuming its attack.

While the crystal seemed to take a moment to recharge, as its light was slowly returning, the cylinders needed no such time, as after the initial burst, it began to maintain a steady stream of yellow pulses, each one dodging through the blackness to strike at another Federation ship. While they were not as powerful as the light beams, they were certainly damaging enough.

T'Kill hollered harshly to his fleet through his console. "ATTACK GROUPS CHARLIE A ND DELTA, FOCUS ON THE CANNONS!" Even as he watched a blue bolt strike the vessel, and a large yellow explosion erupting from the now useless power core, he realized the folly of his statement. Taking two groups away from the main attack, even if they were smaller ships, would lessen their already slim chance of being lucky enough to strike the central core of the vessel, and winning the battle. But it could not be helped; they needed to stay alive to even have that chance.

The _Black Elk_ and _Prometheus_ took control of their respective battle groups, beginning separate attack runs on the large number of cannons. For the sheer size of the vessel, it didn't have much in the way of shielding, and the first runs were successful. Group Charlie consisted of five ships, Delta of four, and they both dodged the initial firing of the cannons by diving close to the surface. Using their torpedoes, they launched a bombing run on their respective targets. The results were impressive, as four cannons were instantly vaporized. One escaped destruction, and fired upon Charlie group, but the shots did not find their targets, moving around in space until they fizzled out.

The second attack runs were more spread out, and neither group could count on the support of the other to draw away fire. Five full cannons were destroyed, but one grouping of shots focused upon one ship, the _Doohan_. The energy cascade spread through the ship too fast for it to recover, and the resulting flames were too bright to withstand.

Another ship lost, but none of the Admirals, least of which T'Kill, could focus on that right now. He did not order a casualty report of his fleet, knowing each Captain could take care of that themselves. Instead he forged ahead, for while the fight was not anywhere near complete, it was certainly not lost, as he watched another two torpedoes find their mark, resulting in two more power cores being eradicated.

The _Maximillian_ itself was making itself one of the most important parts of the battle. Not just as the command base for three of the leaders of the Federation, but also as an immensely powerful ship. Since an actual Errsedorian made the _Maximillian_ a second home during the crisis, it followed that the latest improvements to the torpedoes and shielding were found there. Thus, it's torpedoes, though technically the same as those on other ships, had been tweaked until the last possible second, and they hit with more power and accuracy. The shielding too was beefed up considerably, though as yet the

_Maximillian_ had not taken any damage in this battle. Yet.

It was fortunate for the advanced shielding, as the white light of the crystal reached its highest peak, and then expanded into beams. Many of the beams struck a ship for a second time, and the _Asgard_ was one of them. Losing power rapidly, it hung in space limply, as its crew worked unsuccessfully to restore controls to anywhere on the ship.

The _Enterprise_ was struck for its first time, but it escaped with only minor damage. So too was the _Maximillian_ hit. The ship shook with the blast, but only briefly, as it continued its fire upon the vessel.

Lyon watched the ships fire and be fired upon from his vantage point, saw the damage wrought by what he still maintained was his poor decisions years before, and inwardly cursed himself. T'Kill watched as well, but instead saw the fight tactically. They had lost another heavy cruiser with the _Asgard_, and a Capital-class at that. They could ill afford another blow. He tapped his panel, and called

again to the fleet.

"Prepare to launch starfighters. All starfighter squadrons, launch on my command. Target: That damn crystal." At the very least, he thought, this wouldn't distract from the overall goal of destroying the cores.

One of the largest battles to happen within the Federation in its history was happening right outside the hull of the massive vessel, but for the two androids continuing their struggle within, it might as well had been a thousand light-years away. Critch Starblade had met the hard blow of his doppelganger's strike by easily swatting it downward, and punching him in the face once, twice, three times, with as much force as he could pull from within himself. This did have the effect of driving Canty backwards, but only for a moment, as the android regained his stride, and pushed onward with the attack.

As Canty punished Starblade with blows from the metal bar, the vessel shook, as the first shots from the Federation fleet struck. If they had been paying attention, they could have seen the shots coming, the blue and red fire raining down from the heavens, and watched as they hit their targets perfectly. Through the translucent hull images of ships and torpedoes and destruction moved at a rapid pace, but the only thing that alerted the two combatants to the beginning of the battle was the far off destruction of the first power core.

Starblade hoped for luck to arrive soon, as he had an idea on how many redundant cores there were. Other than the impressive weaponry and the sheer size, the unbelievable numbers of power cores were the defense against an attacking army. And just one was all that was needed to keep the vessel running at full capacity.

Not helping his concentration was the fact that Canty had begun to talk again. Although he was able to block out the noise and power through to parry the blows and return some of his own, his enemy continued talking, uncaring of the lack of attention that Starblade was paying to his words.

Every strike, every move that the Marconian made was punctuated by slightly raising his voice, betraying the otherwise unnoticeable effort that was being put forth by the two. The deadly dance continued through the rumble of the fire and destruction around them as Canty began to speak to Starblade again.

"Don't grieve for this ship, Starblade. The same nanites that flow through your circuits move through this ship. The cores will be repaired with time to spare before it reaches its next destination."

Starblade spun around, with the intent of striking Canty in the back. Sensing the move coming, the twin quickly reached behind him to block, and moved to face him.

"I was thinking, it's a bit outside the path, but since we've started with Lyon and this Federation anyway, we should go ahead and finish the job. What sun should we eradicate next, hm?" He moved to take the offensive, with each word said now striking hard at Starblade's head, only just blocked by the weapon. "Andoria? Vulcan? Perhaps the Klingons?" Starblade advanced, finally fighting back, but his weapon met with Canty's, and they pressed against each other, each pushing for a brief advantage, the only kind that seemed to exist, as the vessel shook hard from the destruction of a group of cannons. Canty smirked at his double as they pressed against each other's metal bar. "You see, it really doesn't matter, Critch. No matter what order, no matter what you do, this universe is going to die and there's nothing you can do about it."

Another large explosion, a nearby core, yet not near enough for Starblade's taste, sent Canty backwards just far enough for him to press the attack. Even as he did so, though, he realized that this was a distraction. If this fight continued for much longer there would be no chance for the _Maximillian_ to be told of the correct target, and all of this would be for naught. Instead, Starblade quickly moved back, and then jumped over the railing, far as he could, landing barely on the edge of a moving platform, continuing a slow circular spin around the central power core, connecting the main portions of the vessel to it. The walkway, along with five others, moved clockwise to his position. If there was a purpose to these walkways, Starblade did not see any. For the time being, however, he was grateful for their presence.

There was a far off growl, and with his enhanced vision Starblade could see Canty look for him, and find him. As quick as he had made the first jump, Starblade made a second, and a third, leaping across a broad section of empty space to land precariously on another platform. As he continued to leap around, he attempted to land closer and closer each time to another communications panel, this one at the end of an adjoining walkway. Canty, for his part, was gaining ground with every leap, knowing this ship far better than his counterpart.

Jump after jump was made, and Starblade drew closer and closer to his destination. He made the final leap, landing safely in the center of the lower, stationary walkway that connected the auxiliary panel to the central unit. As he drew to his feet and took a step toward the purplish glowing monolith that stood at the end of the walkway, on the other side from the core, he heard a small grunt, of his adversary making his own jump.

Still clutching his own weapon, Starblade met Canty's chest with the iron pole, the sheer momentum sent the struck Marconian backwards, landing on his back. He jumped to his feet, but too slowly as Starblade decided to take advantage of the situation, hoping that the _Maximillian_ would forgive his indulgence. Before Canty could steady himself, his twin struck him across the face with the pole, leaving a slight red gash. Again and again Starblade swung, hitting true with every lunge, and his enemy was forced backwards further, as the torpedoes and phaser bolts intensified, and a squadron of Federation starfighters rushed overhead.

The starfighters had launched from the _Maximillian_ as quickly as possible, but because of the damage that had been sustained, the main group had been joined with a second formation from the Columbus, being flown by the Capital-class ship's chief engineer, the Klingon Kohan. Himself a transfer from the Max, he knew many of those he was flying with, and although undoubtedly some considered it strange that an engineer was taking the place of a Wing Commander, Kohan paid it no mind. The Columbus was in good hands as it was, and here was a war to fight. And since Kragnar was maintaining security on his own ship, someone had to represent the empire's honor in this battle. And today, of all days, was a good day to die.

With a massive battle cry he took command of the small fleet of starfighters, forming them into one cohesive attack wing. They could not attack the crystal formation dead-on; for fear that the next light beam to come out would simply incinerate them, rendering their flight pointless. Instead they had to cycle around and come at it from behind, somewhat of a sneak attack that Kohan hoped would catch whatever was running the vessel off guard. This, unfortunately, was not without its dangers. To avoid the firing of the cannons, they had to stick as close as they could to the underside of the vessel. This also involved dodging the unceasing attacks from the Federation ships, unable to let up on their barrage for an instant due to the pressing time.

Moving mere meters below the cavernous outcroppings that made up the construction, they dodged around cannons, not even bothering to fire their small but considerable weaponry. Kohan left them for the bigger ships. They had one objective to accomplish, and it was coming up fast. Even now, though they were only at about amidships, they could see the protrusion of the crystal figurehead where the ship rounded off. It rose to a point at both top and bottom, and Kohan growled knowing that this particular part of the vessel was the demon that had destroyed so much. Even the Gorn needed vengeance, to say nothing of his lost Klingon brothers and sisters, and his fellow officers on both the _Maximillian_ and _Columbus_.

As the small starfighters rushed under the uneven surface, previously unseen cannon came up out of the hull of the vessel. It reached its firing position only a second after they had moved past it, and fired a yellow bolt into space. Kohan radioed a message out to make his people aware of it, but by that time it was already too late. The yellow bolt soared downwards, and then quickly moved back towards the vessel, and directly into the rear fighter. The bolt was so powerful, and the fighter so small, that the energy completely eradicated the fighter as it passed through it, and then impacted on the surface of the vessel itself.

Kohan cursed silently as he pushed his thrusters to their maximum levels, signaling his men to do the same. As he did this, he noticed two more cannons lower themselves into position. Checking his scanners, he noticed he was about fifteen seconds outside of a firing solution on the crystal. Lowering his head, he concentrated all his thought on accomplishing his mission, no matter what the cost. A death such as this would be honor enough.

Another bolt rushed from a cannon, passing through and destroying another two ships directly behind Kohan. They had been covering his attack run, and they had done their jobs well. They would be rewarded in Sto'vo'Kor, he thought, as he cast an eye upon the ship's clock. Five more seconds…Four…Three…

As one last bolt came from the nearest cannon to Kohan's starfighter, the clock reached zero, and the fighter's phaser banks and torpedo bays came to life. Automatically, from Kohan's instructions, all power in the fighter was concentrated on the destruction of its target. Full phasers and every modified torpedo that the fighter had was fired, all hitting various points on the crystal formation both from the rear and the front as the fighter moved past it, outrunning the now confused bolt of energy. The energy bolt was automatically set to home in on the nearest heat signature, which until a moment before was the starfighter. But now with the sudden array of explosions, it had to make a decision, even with its limited A.I.. It chose, stopping only momentarily in mid-flight to adjust its internal directions, and then it flew quickly into the right side of the crystal.

This last powerful blast was more than enough to finish the job that Kohan had set out to do. The explosions began to ripple through the crystal; starting at the center and moving up and out, along the sections, ripping apart the object shard by shard. There was a tremendous concussion wave as the pieces of crystal flew apart, and a large yellow mass of fire burning impossibly in the center of it all.

As Kohan flew back towards the _Maximillian_ and _Columbus_, and the rest of the battle, a small piece of crystal flew out from the wreckage and struck the starfighter, sending it tumbling end over end. Within an instant, all controls and systems went offline, and the tiny ship fell towards the still rapidly-moving vessel.

Kohan kept his eyes open all the way down watching, waiting for his death to arrive, waiting for his arrival into the land he had long dreamed of.

The vessel moved on, but Kohan's ship did not hit the surface. Instead, it moved out of striking distance just before the starfighter impacted, leaving the Klingon moving through space, with no power, and no way to slow himself down.

"Yes!" The destruction of the figurehead on the vessel was met with several fist-pumps and general celebration on the bridge of the _Maximillian_. There was a mild applause, and T'Kill waved his hands downward, enjoying the first bit of joviality since this whole affair began. "Settle down, everyone."

The ensign working the communications console called out to Kelvok suddenly. "Captain, we are receiving signal from the lead starfighter. It is disabled, but life support is holding."

Kelvok acknowledged him by turning his head slightly. "Tell them we'll pick him up after this affair is complete." He allowed himself the thought that they would survive past this, as he turned back to the matter at hand. "All batteries continue firing, continue firing at the…"

"Uh…Uh…" Blobbin interrupted, gesturing at the viewscreen. One by one they looked at the screen, their moods changing from hope to horror as they watched.

The crystal figurehead of the vessel had shattered in the enormous explosion, and the shards drifted off into space along with various pieces of scrap. However, the construction underneath the crystal was still quite intact. It formed a brown scaffolding, and revealed in the exposed center were two identical cylindrical cannons, both long and skinny. They moved independently of each other, each able to move left to right as they glided on invisible tracks up and down. The two tracks were spaced mere feet apart, arranged side by side in the center of the exposed wreckage. They seemed to form the power source for the powerful beam weapon.

"What the hell is that?" Lyon wondered aloud.

"I don't want to find out." Turock signaled the fleet. "All ships, concentrate all fire on…"

"Too late!" Blobbin called out, as the gliding cannons began to fire.

They did not fire with the immense power that had been pouring out of the crystal before, but what they lacked in their former destructive ability they made up for in speed. Blue shots began to rapidly shoot out of the two turrets, spitting across space, focusing on their targets. The enhanced abilities of the artificial intelligence that controlled the vessel's systems while its inhabitants battled inside did its job well, defending from all enemies. At this point, everything around it was classified as an enemy.

The blue lasers did not track their targets, and quite a few missed their marks, favoring instead a scattershot approach. The shots that did strike did not do so with immense power, but the sheer number, hitting all across the shields, taxed the remaining Federation ships mightily, and more than one fell, and quickly, as they were already reeling from the initial attack.

As a _Norway-_class ship exploded neatly in half to the right of the _Maximillian_, Kelvok calmly ordered his ship up and away from the firing cannons, presenting as a target the Max's large underside. As several bolts struck, depleting the shielding slightly, the ship veered away, as many other ships were attempting to do. T'Kill was hurriedly routing commands to the fleet, making quick course corrections and changes, lest more ships be lost by an accidental collision.

While collisions between the Federation ships were few, they were still being destroyed at a breakneck pace. The shots from the vessel seemed to speed up, and their aim was improving as the A.I. slowly learned how these ships, so different from the Marconian vessels, moved through space.

For their part, the defending force did not retreat, they merely were jockeying for a better position, hopefully out of range of their enemy. But the bolts of energy were striking delicate areas, including engineering, and weapons. The ships that were surviving the onslaught had no choice but to withdraw from the fray, their crews hoping it would only be for a short time so they could continue to help fight off the intruder.

The _Maximillian_ shook violently as another barrage of shots hit underneath, and Turock cringed at the incoming casualty reports, now being sent from the rest of the fleet. As he put his head down, silently reading the numbers, Admiral Lyon stared straight ahead at the viewscreen, watching the chaos around them. He watched as ships were ripped in half by immense explosions, watched small bodies that were once alive float silently into the great blackness, watched the great vessel send its fire into space. His fist clenched.

The tense silence was broken by the young ensign at the communications console, who only now did Turock remember was named Merlomo. The curiosity of why he had been named this escaped him as the ensign shouted to the staff. "Captain! Incoming ships! The Reinforcements are arriving!"

Turock leapt to his feet and yelled. "No! Send them back! SEND THEM BACK!"

It was too late for his words to have any effect. Just as the first ship arrived on the scene, the older-model Excelsior-class was met with an array of bolts from the vessel, almost as if their arrival had been detected. With no warning, and no time to get their shields up to full strength, the bolts did far more damage than could have been guessed, and the ship erupted into flame, its nacelles flying off in opposite directions. One nacelle impacted with a smaller Akira-class ship just as it warped in, arriving just in time to become nothing more than debris, as the nacelle rammed right into the core of the ship. Where there had been two great ships had turned into horrible wrecks of metal and fire in only seconds.

As a third ship warped in, to meet with the same horrible fate as had the first two, Turock's fist hit his console. Though the materials that the console were made out of resisted most blows, it still shook with the impact. Ensign Merlomo called out again. "The rest of the second wave is holding back….We're on our own, sir." His voice grew more worried as his statement went on.

"Thank you, Ensign." Kelvok stated calmly. "Admiral T'Kill, if I may send a message to the remaining fleet?"

T'Kill stopped, and looked at the Vulcan. "Kelvok?"

"I believe it is time to regain the advantage, Admiral, but we cannot do it alone." Kelvok stood adamant against the questioning looks he was receiving. The ship shook from another barrage of shots, and Turock nodded, tapping his panels as he did so to pass control along to Kelvok.

Seconds later, on the command of a Vulcan much of the fleet had never heard of before, the remaining ships of Joint Task Force Alpha stopped their retreat, and came together in a 'V' formation. With the _Maximillian_ leading them, they increased their speed, and advanced on the vessel, and the constantly firing cannons that were swiveling and moving within the brackets of the former crystal shape.

The laser bolts from the cannons stopped for an instant, reassessing the situation and reacting to the new battle plans, and then started concentrating their fire on a single ship, to the right of the _Maximillian_, and at the end of the formation.

Kelvok was not daunted by the dedicated attack, as he continued to order the fleet forward. "Do not break rank, do not slow. Prepare to fire."

As the rightmost ship, the _Explorer II_, erupted into flame, Kelvok ordered the fleet to open fire with everything they had. Not saving anything, lest they not make it to the next phase of the plan, the _Maximillian_ and the rest of the fleet began to rain fire down upon the cannons. As it continued to fire, destroying another ship and weakening a third, torpedoes struck the infrastructure of the cannons, and they shook. A beat passed, and they began firing wildly into the mass of ships, striking each as many times as possible, with no perceivable rhyme or reason to where the shots were hitting, aiming to do as much damage as possible in whatever time it had left.

Another explosion, this time to the left of the _Maximillian_, as the ships were almost on top of the vessel. Kelvok's voice raised without him even realizing it, as the constant barrage striking the ship caused sparks to fly out of nearby consoles.

"Do not slow, do not stop! Fire all torpedoes and phasers!"

As the _Maximillian_, and the fleet closely following, flew overhead, of the vessel, rear phasers from the ship struck the cannons on their roof. Almost instantly, yellow smoke erupted from the top of the right cannon, followed by the left one. All firing stopped, and the cannons suddenly erupted, exploding outwards in bright orange, the fires quickly dying due to the lack of oxygen.

A cheer went up from the _Maximillian_, as a grin returned to Blobbin's face. He turned to Kelvok, large pointy ears appearing on his head as he did so. "Niiiiice."

Kelvok nodded, not allowing any positive emotion to show, as he assessed the situation, returning control of the fleet to Turock as he did so.

The crystal figurehead had exploded, and the main weaponry of the vessel was offline, disabled or worse. There were a few alarms of strange noise echoing through the vast spaces, but neither Marconian could hear them. The bloodlust seemingly flowing through them at this point. Canty had tried to regain the upper hand, but Starblade was unwilling to let that happen. The sharp iron bar in his hand had disarmed his adversary, and he had returned to striking the evil android in any place he could reach. But still Canty survived, and fought back. The two moved back and forth across a moving bridge, at separate times losing and gaining ground, but Starblade was winning still.

Canty fell again, leaning against the walkway handrails, as Starblade struck again and again, each time the blow glancing off the walkway, or blocked by the android's arm, the synthetic skin on which was by now bruised and in some places hanging off, revealing the cybernetics underneath. As the fleet destroyed the figurehead completely, including the defensive cannons, Starblade was caught off guard by the immense explosion, which reverberated through the structure. Canty saw his one chance on the next swing, and as the bar sailed through the air, he caught it before it could strike him again.

The two androids, identical in every way but morals and perspective, stared each other down, both unwilling to yield the weapon. But whereas Critch Starblade had been trained in Starfleet, learning their ways and skills, Canty had remembered everything his twin had forgotten, and the Marconian ways were very different. Punching the android suddenly out of nowhere, Canty wrenched the bar from his hands. Starblade sailed back a few feet, landing on his back. Then, before he could even think of defending himself, Canty was upon him.

The tables had turned, and Starblade was the one being struck. Without mercy or fail, Canty drive the end of the bar into his adversary's body over and over and over again, as hard and unyielding as possible. Then, feigning a blow to Starblade's chest, which he prepared to block, Canty drove the sharp end of the bar directly into Critch Starblade's left eye.

His pain sensors not completely turned off, due to the effects of regaining his memory and the need for all his systems to be online to interface with the vessel, Starblade felt the sharp pain, overloading his mind, and he fell to the ground, writhing. Canty pulled the bar out, satisfied with his victory, as his enemy now moved on the ground, the fight having left him. Canty stood, and then kicked Starblade in the lower back.

"Oh relax, Starblade!" He taunted. "You know your 'brain' is located elsewhere, and your body will fix the damage in time. Time that I'm afraid you and your Federation do not have." Adding insult, Canty walked away from the disfigured android. "You gave it a good fight; you did far more than I ever thought you could. Your reward is to watch as I finish this."

Starblade slowly raised his head, using all his energy, to watch Canty move to the console, on the opposite side of the bridge from the power core. He watched with one remaining eye as he placed his hand on the console, and saw a small targeting reticule on the screen, aimed on the fleet, directly on the _Maximillian_.

Canty smirked. "It's time, for the end."


	22. Destruction

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Twenty-Two: Destruction

As soon as the figurehead of the vessel had been destroyed, the cannons and lasers had stopped firing. And for an instant, Lyon believed the hard part had passed. Almost reading his mind, Blobbin turned to Turock. "Is it over?"

Kelvok answered for him. "There is no sign of any attacks from the vessel. However, their forward progress has not slowed. At current speeds, the vessel will impact the corona in nine minutes, fifty-seven seconds." The Vulcan nodded at Ensign Merlomo, who had fed the information to the console in Kelvok's chair.

"Still better than how we were doing." Turock remarked. "At least they're not shooting at us anymore."

"What's left of the task force?" Lyon asked.

Turock grimaced as he glanced at his console. "Us…and the _Black Elk_. Everyone else is either destroyed or too damaged to keep fighting. The _Elk_ is advancing on the vessel…"

They watched the viewscreen intently as the _Akira_-class ship moved forward, training its phasers and torpedoes upon the multiple remaining power cores of the immense vessel. A few shots hit, before the vessel erupted to life again. A single white column of fire erupted out of the middle of the vessel, hitting the unprepared _Elk_ head on. Already weakened from the earlier attacks, the smaller ship didn't stand a chance, as the front half of its saucer was annihilated in the lasers, simply disappearing into the blackness. As the remainder of the ship spun out of control, a large explosion erupted from its engineering bay, and soon the rest of the ship disappeared in immense fire.

"Damn!" Turock emitted, as the rest of the crew reacted in horror. Each of them slowly came to a stark realization. The vessel still had incredible firepower…and the _Maximillian_ was the only ship left with any chance of stopping them. But there was no choice now, forward was the only option.

As Kelvok gave the order, the ship began to fire its remaining stock of Errsedorian torpedoes at almost any source of power on the vessel it could find. Yellow, red, and blue balls of incredible power hit their targets exactly, and bursts of flame soared into the stars from the impacts. Power cores exploded in shockwaves. But they were the redundancies, the backup cores. The main target was left unhit and unharmed, twenty-five yards away from the closest explosion, where Starblade lay in unrelenting pain, unable to shut off his pain sensors, and where the other android stood, his palm on the glowing console, and his intent clear.

As commanded by the Marconian, the immense bolt of energy reappeared, firing out of the bowels of the vessel, the last ditch effort that was never supposed to be used, for it drew so much power from the vessel that the nanomachines that would repair it would be drained for weeks. But the time had come for vengeance, even before the Federation and all sentience would be wiped out. Lyon himself, his ship, and his crew, must feel the pain and savagery that he had visited upon the Marconian people years before. The great energy struck the _Maximillian_ directly amidships. It hit hard, shaking the ship, even sending it backwards for an instant before it compensated.

But that was not the end. As the command staff held tight to their consoles, and the crew clutched their stations all over the ship, the laser fired again. And again. With no time to recover, or even to react, the energy struck the _Maximillian_ in several places, dead-on, on the nacelles, at the junctions, and underneath. Each time hitting harder and deadlier than any phaser or torpedo could hope to strike. But it was the last blast that proved to be strongest, which fortunately for the vessel was the last one that they could make without seriously compromising their remaining power cores. The final surge of power surged directly through the right nacelle, sending a bright array of sparks and flame into the vacuum. So intense was the blast that it completely severed the nacelle from the _Maximillian_, and it flew off into space, the lighting flickering inside it, the piece once essential, now only dead weight.

The ship shook from the strain of losing one of its needed parts more than ever before, and most everyone was sent from their stations to the floor. Blobbin formed a ball and quickly rolled out of the way as a beam ripped through the bridge's ceiling and smashed through his console, which he had been attending to only moments before. As the air filled with dust and smoke, he moved to the rear stations, the few that were still operational. He called out to the crew, not even knowing who was still alive.

"That was a hell of an uppercut! We've lost...jeez, just about everything!"

Over the intercom, the call came from the engine room. Unknowing the situation on the bridge, Tamak's voice stayed calm, collected, despite the hell that was occurring around him. "The warp core has been compromised, Captain. Breach will occur in three minutes."

Kelvok struggled to his chair. "Contain it as best you can, commander." At this point, he knew there was no need to give further instructions. The crew, now his crew, had been stretched well beyond their breaking point, and anything else would distract them from their goals. He trusted that they knew full well what to do now. Instead, he cut off engineering, and spoke aloud.

"Full power to weapons. Torpedoes fire."

T'Kill struggled back into his seat to look upon the viewscreen. The _Maximillian_ was losing speed, and already the vessel was pulling away from them. He noticed that there were no bolts of fire coming from the ship. He tapped his console, praying it was still working. Assessing the situation, he yelled back at Kelvok.

"Weapons room at full power!"

Kelvok nodded. "Bridge to tactical. Tactical respond."

Seconds passed. No answer was forthcoming. Fearing the worst, T'Kill punched in a quick override, and attempted to launch the torpedoes himself. There were still enough in stock to do some damage. After pounding the buttons, he realized that nothing was happening.

Kelvok questioned tactical again, but again there was no response. Silent for a moment, watching the vessel get farther out of range, he asked the computer another question.

"Computer, is there any sign of radiation in the torpedo bays?"

"Internal sensors offline. Deck 24 breached." The easy demeanor of the computer did not soothe anyone in the room. For the remaining bridge crew, all they could do is attempt manual overrides, rerouting power to sensors, and anything else they could think of. To go to the deck itself would be suicide, and largely useless.

For Admiral Lyon, what they couldn't do, couldn't even think of, was the only thing. As everyone around him concentrated desperately on their work, he rose from his seat in the front of the bridge, circled around, and entered the turbolift. Stating his destination, the doors shut, and the lift moved.

In the main engineering bay, the blast doors were not closed. Being as the vessel was only mere minutes away from reaching its goal, keeping the eventually-deadly radiation from spreading throughout the ship was less than a priority. Instead, the few crew members still alive continued to work to the best of their ability. However, it was in vain. No matter their actions, they were beginning to accept the truth. The warp core would breach, and they would die.

Tamak, even beneath his Vulcan shell, was one of the few not to accept it. There had to be a way. Shutting down the core would not be good enough, even if they could do it. The vessel would still reach the sun, and everything would still be incinerated. But try as he might, through his logical mind, an answer was not forthcoming that would save both the _Maximillian_ and the sun itself.

Kragnar's blood boiled as he glanced over the darkened panels on the wall. This part of Engineering was non-essential, especially at this juncture, but it was not the panels themselves he was looking at. It was the splatters of blood from a crewman, another young ensign who had been too close to a pole when the last intense blast came. The blood was all that could be found of her. Another life sacrificed to this enemy without a face. It had killed Klingons, Federation, even Romulans. It had killed his sister. No matter the race or creed, it only meant destruction. He wished for the power to at the very least drive this ship, this great warship, into the hull of the vessel, to buy honor for the fallen and the soon-to-be-fallen, so that the barges of the dead would be full for untold time, delivering their precious cargo to Sto-Vo-Kor. This battle was fought in all their names. But the power was weakening, and soon the ship would be at the mercy of the winds of space, and then the inevitable destructive wave, the last cry of Earth's sun. He growled loudly as he pounded the panel again, uselessly.

Tamak looked up at him. "You may believe me or not, Commander, but I do understand your feelings."

Kragnar threw a angry glance at him. "You understand nothing, Vulcan! I would gladly sacrifice the lives of everyone here to stab that monster in its ugly eye. But it is useless!" He pounded the console again. Sending dust and bits of grime off onto the floor.

Tamak blinked. "Commander Kragnar…Please do that again."

Kragnar looked at him. "What?"

"Indulge me, please."

Shrugging, Kragnar hit the console again. Again, particles flew outward. And this was what Tamak was looking for.

Quickly, the Vulcan moved to a still-working console and began hurriedly punching in commands. "Commander, please begin the immediate evacuation to the saucer section."

Kragnar wasn't sure if he had heard the chief engineer correctly. "What?"

"Commander, if I eject the core, I am quite sure that the entire ship cannot withstand the impact wave, and we would be left in an unimaginably worse position. Therefore, I am not going to eject the core, nor will I contain it. I am sending commands to the bridge to separate the saucer section. Probability is high that…"

Kragnar understood, he just wasn't sure if he liked the idea. Separating the saucer section was almost never done on a ship of this size, and doing it as quickly as would be needed would allow only minutes for an evacuation. Fortunately, almost everyone on this section of the ship was dead or soon dead anyway. Regardless, the Klingon had deep misgivings.

"If you are wrong…" He growled menacingly.

"If I am wrong, Commander, then we will die. And I do not think that is avoidable at this point."

The orders were given. The commands were sent. What power was left on the _Maximillian_ was sent to the separation process. There was only time for one quick announcement sent to the section that would be left behind, before it was time to move. The announcement saved fifty-three crewmembers, out of the one-hundred-fifteen still alive. The gates were closed off, the doors shut, and for the first time since its initial tests, the saucer section of the U.S.S. _Maximillian_ decoupled from its stern. The thrusters were activated much sooner than recommended, due to the need to escape as fast as possible. At full impulse, as fast as it could move without nacelles or even an engineering bay, the saucer section limped away. The vessel was still moving away, but at least the pace had lessened, as the saucer moved in a pointless pursuit.

The questionable part of Tamak's plan played in his mind as he watched nervously from his new station on the bridge, and the low probability of success he had worked out. He didn't feel it necessary to inform anyone of the odds.

Suddenly, with a silent flash of white, the warp core breached. The stern portion of the _Maximillian_ disappeared behind several more white and orange flashes, and then a larger one which encompassed the entire stern. Left in its wake was a shockwave that extended outward in a perfect circle. Out into space, and towards the saucer.

"Angle up, 40 degrees." Kelvok seized his chance. He knew Tamak, and knew that the odds were low just by the raised eyebrow. The moment of truth had arrived. Either the ship would ride the wave, or be torn in half by the power of it. Tamak had attempted to dampen it as much as possible without containing it. Too much power and it would have annihilated the ship as surely as if the saucer had still been attached. Too little, and the push would not be nearly enough. Tamak simply had to make the best guess he could.

Even the Vulcans closed their eyes as the wave hit the saucer at its back. There was a great jolt, and there were m ore sparks. But that was all. Instead of destroying what was left of the _Maximillian_, the wave pushed the ship forward, accelerating it. Instead of being outpaced by the vessel, they were now exceeding its speed.

"Report!" Kelvok yelled.

"Current speeds three times impulse! We'll breach the sun right behind them!" Blobbin yelled.

"In firing range, Admiral?"

"Does Surak go in the woods?"

"Yes, Kelvok!" T'Kill cut Blobbin off before he could do any more damage.

"We need torpedoes. Admiral, please reroute primary functions from…"

Blobbin cut him off as he looked over at the empty seat on the bridge. Not empty because of a dead or wounded body nearby, just empty.

"Where's Rob? "

Lyon sat in his quarters, staring at himself in the miraculously still unbroken mirror. The bags under his eyes, the unkempt hair, this was not what he was looking at. Instead he was looking himself in the eyes, the first time he had been able to do this in years. He glanced at his rank on the collar of his shirt, and he steeled himself. The rest of the crew had done their parts, keeping them alive. For Lyon himself now, it was time.

The steel-like grating of the catwalk was cold and unyielding beneath Starblade's face, yet he did not feel much at all besides the now dullness encompassing the left side of his face. The gaping hole had bled out, the synthetic blood that was only contained within his body for show now dripped down into the bowels of the vessel, and there was a faint feeling of dryness. His pain sensors, typically off, had failed him, and were now continuing to register the ache with occasional stabs of sharp pain, beginning where his eye had been and cascading outward throughout his entire body. Even so, he felt the repair process beginning, the small machines that were normally dormant coming to life throughout his body, rushing to repair the horrible damage. In an optimal situation, the repair process would take a week. The current situation, of course, was anything but optimal.

As he struggled to focus through the splattered blood covering his face, he could just make out the image of Canty, his right hand on a control panel, concentrating intently. Starblade shook off a sudden wave of nausea, inwardly cursing his human-like reflexes, and focused his one remaining eye on what his twin was doing.

He saw Canty's' face turn from satisfaction to anger, and a click glance at the panel revealed why. It showed images happening behind them, of the apparent destruction of the back half of the _Maximillian_, and the saucer section beginning to overtake their current speed. Starblade felt a pang of sadness at the partial loss of his ship, but he knew that it was necessary, and wished for everyone to be all right. He also watched Canty grimace, and place a finger towards the bottom of the screen, and drag it up to the saucer section, as though dragging a target to it.

Starblade attempted to yell out, to distract Canty as much as possible, to buy his ship more time. All that was able to escape from his damaged throat was a weak "No..." Canty heard him all the same, and turned his bruised head to him.

"Still defiant. I'm impressed."

Starblade, unable to speak more than a few words at this point, slowly raised himself up on his hands and knees, and tried to crawl. Satisfied with this slow progress, he moved himself, extremely slowly, towards Canty. The Marconian shook his head.

"Poor Critch Starblade. From the heights of fame and glory, reduced to crawling across his own ship. Reduced to being nothing more worthy than a Ka-Ki-Ri!"

Starblade ignored the taunts, instead concentrating all his strength on continuing to move, to do whatever he could to buy the _Maximillian_ more time. He continued his movement, focusing with his remaining eye on his enemy, dragging a leg that refused to move. Finally he pushed himself onto the platform, at last done with the unending catwalk. It seemed his plan was working. Canty continued to regard him with a mixture of amusement and disgust, but did not fire again on the ship.

Canty smirked. "So unyielding, so powerful…" He crossed over from the panel to his counterpart, standing in front of him. Starblade used all the strength left within him just to reach out and grasp Canty's' ankle. The doppelganger shook his head sadly, and raised his leg sharply, kicking Starblade hard under his chin. The impact sent him upwards, end over end, and sailed slowly through the air until he fell, facing the core again, back onto the catwalk. Canty finished his thoughts. "So pathetic. Can't even stand to walk. Lesser Marconians than you could have withstood much more." He looked back at the panels, appraising the progress of the _Maximillian_. "Still…" He began to walk towards Starblade, his grey boots making the catwalk rattle loosely.

"Still, you deserve a warrior's death. Well, not you exactly…but the Marconian you once were. The true Critch Starblade. The man who thought duty and honor were more important than these mere shells we will control and destroy! But…it seems that man is gone. And all that is left…is you. So you'll have to do." As he had done before, he reached out and pulled a metal stabilizing bar from the catwalk, pulling it free with a sharp grinding sound. Chains swung loosely for a moment, clanging against the sides, hiding all other noise as Canty marched toward Starblade.

"How I wished….How I wished to bring you back to Marconia with me, the victor, the conquering hero that had only lost his way, not his mind. The parades, the crowds. We would reign supreme forever, you and I, Critch. And your mind would be restored to its former glory, and all would have been as it should be." Canty shook his head sadly, as Starblade struggled to rise again, finding more energy, but still not able to arrange it in any kind of organization. "But it is not to be."

Canty raised the metal bar; both fists wrapped around it tightly, and brought it above his head. Starblade could not see what was happening, and was not even thinking about his imminent demise. It was all he could do just to push himself upwards.

"Farewell, Critch Starblade. May your mind find you in your next incarnation." The bar at its peak, and Canty's eyes closed, dreading what he now had to do. He forcefully and quickly lowered the bar towards its final destination, the small of Starblade's back, and within his back itself, his power center. The core of his being.

The bar arched through the air…

A scaly hand caught the bar as it sailed over Canty's hand. It wrapped around it and stopped all forward progress. Starblade was safe, for the moment. For an instant, Canty didn't know what had happened, all he knew was that the bar had simply stopped moving, and he was unable to move it. He couldn't imagine what it could have gotten stuck on, since there was nothing above or around him.

Starblade was puzzled by the sudden silence, and turned his head around slowly. What he saw shocked him.

Karei, Canty's Ka-Ki-Ri, held on to the android's now struggling hand. Canty flailed around, growling at his servant. "What are you doing? Release me!"

The Ka-Ki-Ri simply shook its head. "No More."

Canty flailed wildly, bringing his other hand around, screaming in curses that Starblade's universal translator could not decipher. He found more strength somewhere within him, and pulled himself up to an unsteady position, using the catwalk rails to hold him. He advanced slowly to the battlers.

Karei's head snapped around. "No! Starblade must reach panel!" With one of his many hands, he gestured towards the same controls that Canty had just controlled. Not understanding, Starblade reached out.

"DO IT!" It growled as Canty, his strength having no effect, bit into the creature's flesh. Frowning, Starblade held on to the catwalk railing as he moved past the two as quickly as his damaged body would allow. It was just seconds, but at this late stage everything felt ten times longer than it actually was. His entire weight pushed against the railing, but it held strong, and over a relatively short period of time in which the heat of the approaching sun caused sweat to form on his brow, Starblade reached the panel.

He grimaced at the sharp aches ricocheting throughout his body, and frowned at the screen as he now held on to the sides of the panel, lest he fall over and waste precious time regaining his footing. He quickly dragged the targeting cursor to the side of the screen, away from the slowly approaching saucer section, which curiously enough was still not firing. At a loss for his next step, he looked back towards the other two occupants of the vessel.

Karei was holding strong, but his grip had lessened somewhat, as the Marconian had now grabbed hold of a metal bar holding the catwalk together, and was trying to pull it free, again using one as a weapon. It did not seem to concern the Ka-Ki-Ri though, as he turned his head towards Starblade. "Bottom of panel. Controls."

Still confused, he placed a finger at a small purple square jutting out from the bottom of the panel. New images replaced the _Maximillian_, images of the vessel, and images of the power cores still operational. He realized he now could give better coordinates to his ship, if he still had time to do it. But there was something else to do first, as he noticed one particular set of controls, off to the right side.

He looked at Karei, silently asking for permission, and confirming that this was what the Ka-Ki-Ri had meant. Karei simply nodded, resigned to placing his fate in Starblade's bloodied hands.

With no choice, and no time, Starblade pressed inward on the last set of controls. It was silent for a heartbeat, and then the sound begun. Loud howling and roaring came out of nowhere to instantly surround the three, and alongside it brought wind. Terrible rushing wind blowing the atmosphere of the vessel into space. The last controls had dropped the invisible shielding surrounding the vessel, exposing it entirely to the viciousness of space. Already on the locations closest to the sun, the leading edges of the vessel, they were superheating, glowing bright red. An awesome sight were there anyone close enough and unoccupied enough to appreciate it. At this point, however, the three were more preoccupied with survival. Starblade had looped his arms around a nearby skinny pole and held on as his brown synthetic hair blew upwards, his tattered uniform threatening to fly off in the wind. Canty was now horizontal and tilting upwards, feet first, his hands refusing to remove themselves from the metal bar, which was slightly bending. He was screaming wordless curses into the wind, undoubtedly

Marconian in nature, but they were lost into space as he himself was close to becoming. Karei had fallen back, but had not fallen off, clutching now to the android's legs, trying now to pull Canty off before he fell off himself.

Canty caught Starblade's eye, and a look of unrelenting rage came across his face. Noting that his bar was bending and now threatening to snap in two, he began to shuffle himself, one arm at a time, towards his counterpart. If he could just reach the controls, he could restore the shielding, and complete his mission. Starblade wasn't even looking, his mind concentrating on becoming one with the pole to avoid a pointless death.

As Canty moved slowly across, the ship was tearing itself apart. Large pieces of metal and shrapnel, and several panels and controls ripped themselves straight out of their holds, spiraling upwards, burning in the emptiness of space from the heat of the sun. One large bit of machinery, almost resembling an engine, flew upwards through the chasm right past the three. It sailed into an upper level, wedging itself neatly through a Y junction of metal.

More and more pieces flew past, most smaller than the large machine, as Canty moved ever closer to his unknowing prey. When he was but five steps away, Karei knew it was time to act, and there was no other way. He looked up at his ally. "STARBLADE!" He screamed even over the noise, and was now close enough to be heard.

As Starblade turned his head, realizing something was wrong if he could hear the raspy yell, Karei finished. "SAVE KA-KI-RI. REMEMBER YOUR WORD." With that, he reared back his head, bearing his teeth, and sunk them into Canty's back.

The Marconian roared, and for one brief instant, the pain overruled any thoughts of preserving his life or vengeance upon Starblade. Instead, he let go of the bar in order to remove the Ka-Ki-Ri's teeth, and perhaps his life. One mistake was all it took. Screaming words unintelligible even in his native tongue, he was carried, screaming and flailing all the way, past the few upper levels of the vessel, alongside his former slave, into the blackness and airlessness of space. A space that at this time, was not cold, but in fact heating up to incredible levels very quickly.

"Captain! Look!"

The _Maximillian_'s state had not improved, the firing solution had not been provided, and Kelvok was at a loss to what their next step would be. But the words of the young ensign behind him made him tear his eyes away from the padd in front of him to gaze upon the viewscreen. Though half of the screen was blinking, damaged in the battle, it was still enough for him to rise to his feet. "Magnify." He spoke sternly.

Two figures, waving their bodies wildly as though calling for God himself to save them.

"Sir, two faint life signs…One unidentified….One Android!"

There was no time to even acknowledge. "Beam them to…"

"Too late!"

For Karei, it was painless, and welcome. It was cold, then very hot. The pressures and temperatures froze him to the core, and then burned him from the inside out. But as he died, he knew that he had given his people a chance. If Starblade could now be trusted, there may yet be a future for Ka-Ki-Ri. A future that he would never now, as his body disintegrated in the immense heat.

For Canty, his superior systems prevented such a quick death. And there was no peace for him, nor thoughts of reflection, or even the life passing through his eyes. Only now soundless screaming, useless, into the hot red and yellow blaze. The heat seared off his synthetic flesh, his hair, his clothing, until all he was, was metal. Bright and silver, and still alive, still feeling the heat, the mouth still open although any circuitry for voice was long since gone. The Marconian felt the hot pain of death as his pieces literally melted away, and he watched it all until his eyes bubbled and boiled to nothingness, until there was literally nothing left of the former commander of the military corps of Marconia but a tiny unimpressive fireball spiraling towards the sun, growing smaller and smaller until it disappeared completely from existence, burned away.

With nothing else that he could do, Starblade hurriedly reached out and grabbed the sides of the panel again. The wind had only intensified, and as he did so, he nearly lost his grip, flying up into the air as his twin and Karei had done prior.

But he kept one hand on the side, and grabbed for the panel, brushing against the shielding controls as he did so. Another heartbeat passed…and the wind stopped. Pieces of metal that were still flying upwards suddenly had artificial gravity impressed upon them, and then returned with horrible grinding and crashes to the floors below. The large piece of metal leaned down, tilting a bit in another direction, but held, wedged in the Y formation loosely.

Sighing, but remembering the limited time available to him, Starblade tapped the panel again. It lit up purple.

The bridge was in shock. In all probability, they had just watched the destruction of their only hope of stopping the vessel, even if they could fire upon it. Most simply stared blankly at the screen, as Tamak attempted to calm them.

"We have no way of knowing if that was truly Commander Starblade. There were other identical beings on that vessel."

Almost as if by command, a voice sounded out throughout the bridge. "Starblade to _Maximillian_, anyone still alive over there?"

A few silent whispers of "Yes" were heard as Kelvok let out a small, unnoticeable sigh before he could catch himself. "It is agreeable to hear from you, commander."

"No time to chat. Can you read my position?"

"Sensors are mostly offline, commander. I believe we are reading a faint signal from your position, however. Not enough for a transport, unfortunately, but…"

"Work on that quick, Kelvok. There's a power core roughly twenty yards from my position, you get that?"

The ensign nodded, and Kelvok replied. "Yes, commander."

"That's it. Blow it to hell."

The large piece of metal swayed and dipped as it was beginning to slide from its berth within the 'Y', and small pieces of rubble rained down from it directly below. One struck Starblade on the top of his head as Kelvok responded, but he ignored it. "What do you mean you can't fire? All you have to do is hit this thing once and she'll go!"

Kelvok's voice echoed throughout the now nearly uninhabited vessel. "We are ascertaining the cause and developing a solution as we speak, commander."

Starblade was exasperated. "Kelvok, we're at under five minutes here!"

"I am aware, commander."

"I…." There was a great grinding and scratching, and Starblade looked up. His eyes grew wide as he could only let out a weak "Ah hell." Before the large piece of metal, wedged for barely a minute, crashed down upon Critch Starblade, crushing him to the floor beneath several tons of rubble.

"Commander? Commander, are you still there?" They had heard the noise, but had no idea what it meant. All they knew was that the line was still open. But there was no response. Each feared the worst, and they looked back up at the approaching star, one by one, and each thought the same thing.

What the hell would they do now?


	23. Death

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Twenty-Three: Death

Kelvok looked at Tamak with the same stern and unyielding expression he always used, but beneath the collected exterior was a torment of repressed emotion that threatened to overwhelm the Vulcan. The same could be said of Tamak himself, busy trying to hurriedly fix the problem in the armory. They kept their emotional side in check, as much as for each other as for anyone else, so that they may weather this crisis. Tamak glanced upwards. "Captain, I have exhausted all avenues. It is not possible to reconfigure the controls to a functional state with the amount of time we have available to us."

Kelvok simply looked back at him. "And there is no time to do it manually?"

"It would not be possible at any stage. To enter the weapons bay would be comparable to suicide with the amount of radiation that has been released. Whoever went in would likely succumb to the effects before they could complete the wiring process."

Kelvok nodded. "You will keep trying."

"Yes, Captain. Until I cannot." Until death, the unspoken words hanging in the air. Tamak turned back to his console, and Kelvok swiveled around in his chair, waiting, even hoping, for a solution to present itself. As the great Vulcans had always said, there are always possibilities.

He stared at the viewscreen, at least the portions of it that were still functional. Behind the flickering, he saw the vessel approaching the sun. More and more of it now was close enough to feel the full effects of the heat, and while the shielding had been restored, the forward portions of the ship were glowing bright red now. If Commander Starblade was still alive, he thought, he may not be for very much longer.

The vessel, now unmanned, continued its leisurely pace towards its destination, it's powerful weaponry armed and ready to fire once it reached its exact coordinates, now mere minutes away. Behind it flew the _Maximillian_, at least what was left of it, with no way of preventing the vessel's forward progress, and no way of destroying it.

Nervously, almost unconsciously, Kelvok targeted the power core that Commander Starblade had referred to. Although he had not even the power to ram the saucer into it, it comforted him somewhat that if there was any change, he had made it that much easier to complete their mission.

The two ships, remaining locked in their continuous dance that had begun days before, continued on to a horrible future, only minutes away.

After the disastrous explosions and attacks that the ship had weathered, all was quiet in the hallways. There were few crewmembers left alive, and those that were left were gathered in their assigned positions. With only minutes left to live, the few not on duty or too scared to be on duty were hiding in their quarters, clutching tightly to what was left of their lives.

The sound of footfalls echoed throughout the hall. The military grade boots landed heavily on the carpet as their occupant marched purposefully. Despite the great need, he did not move quickly, but still made progress. Heavy things weighed upon his mind, and that was what was driving him onward.

Admiral Robert Lyon, in his full dress uniform, had left his quarters with a single goal in mind. His head was up, and he was filled with a sense of duty, and finally, honor. He hadn't felt honor in many years. All reflection was gone; all that was left was service.

He passed m any doors, and he marveled at the fact that he still knew the names of everyone that lived in the rooms. Names of crewmembers that he had never met. But because they were on the _Maximillian_, on his ship, he had made it a point to know who was serving. Who he would have to count on to save his life. He just never would have guessed that the one person that he couldn't count on was himself.

That was in the past now. At this late hour, he had moved onward from that thought. A new idea had been placed in his head as though by divine intervention, and he would make good on this idea, despite how little time was left.

He continued to move, undaunted and unafraid, and fully expecting to be unchallenged. Everyone else had their part to play. The bridge crew doing their part, the many crewmembers doing theirs. At long last, it was time for Admiral Lyon to do his. He had thought he was fulfilling his tasks before, but now he could see that he was only helping to bring about this situation, which now had to be rectified.

His head held high, his confidence restored, he rounded the corner, and was surprised to see two other figures standing in his path, blocking the hall.

Admiral Blobbin, and Admiral T'Kill.

He stopped as well. "Admirals."

Blobbin pudged forward slightly. "Out for a doomsday stroll?"

Lyon smirked. "I should ask you the same thing. Shouldn't you two be on the bridge?"

T'Kill moved past him, placing himself between Lyon and Blobbin. "You're not doing it, Rob."

"This isn't open to debate, we're out of options."

"You don't know that, we've still got a couple…"

Lyon, increasingly aware of the time constraints, cut him off. "I've made my decision, and I'd appreciate it if you keep track of who your ranking officer is."

"Stars don't mean anything right now, Rob. I don't give a damn if you have a hundred, you're not doing it."

Lyon nodded, and said very quietly, "I'm sorry, Turock." And with that, he calmly pulled out a small phaser and shot Admiral T'Kill in the gut. He looked at Lyon, shocked, and then crumpled to the floor.

As Lyon stepped over the unconscious form, Blobbin whistled. "Shoot him again. I want to remember that."

"Just set to stun. He'd never have let me…He's too good of a friend, far better than I deserve after all this." Lyon paused. "You're going to have to get out of the way too, Blobbin. You know you can't stop me."

The Errsedorian chuckled. "Phh, we don't even know if that thing works on me. And this'd be a real stupid time to find out." There was a minute where the two Admirals stared each other down. Then, to Lyon's surprise, Blobbin saluted Lyon seriously for the first time in his life. He had a serious look on his face as he did this, and he did not change color. Lyon didn't even think Blobbin could make a serious face. Then, slowly, as though he really wasn't even moving, Blobbin pudged to the side. He spoke quietly. "Is the word given, Admiral?"

Lyon smiled sadly. "The word is given."

Blobbin nodded his head. "If this means a promotion, I'll hunt you down."

Admiral Lyon saluted his strange friend. "Thank you, Blobbin."

"Don't screw it up." As Blobbin watched, Lyon continued down the hallway, his purpose returning. At the far end, he disappeared into a turbolift. Blobbin watched the doors closed, and sighed, sadly, turning to T'Kill's body.

"Just you and me now."

Even with the restored shielding, the heat from the sun was taking its toll on the vessel. The front left corner had entered the star's corona, and was now completely bright red, from temperatures reaching over a million degrees Celsius. The bridge crew simply sat now, all hope draining, all avenues pursued, and found lacking. The vessel would enter the sun, do whatever it was that it was going to do, and destroy it. The _Maximillian_ would be destroyed, along with the Earth, the Moon, and any other planet within range. Somehow the vessel would survive, and move on. Knowing its weak spot gave no comfort to Kelvok, knowing he was facing his final moments. He theorized that other ships on other worlds may yet have a chance for stopping it, if it could be arranged in time without the vessel reconfiguring and repairing itself. He glanced back to the fearful looking ensign.

"Please send a coded subspace message to Vulcan. Inform them of everything that has transpired, including Commander Starblade's last message." The ensign nodded, shaking a bit. Kelvok rose, walked a few steps, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "We must have faith that this is as it should be, Ensign Merlomo. All things pass. We must do our duty, however, until the very end." Merlomo nodded, and moved to complete his final task. Kelvok returned to his chair, realizing that this is exactly how Admiral Winslow at the Archer Observatory must have felt as he first laid eyes on the vessel. Defeated, dejected, and totally without hope of seeing another day. He sat back, folded his hands together, and began to meditate, as the remainder of the bridge crew prepared to meet their ends in their own ways.

The turbolift doors did not open quickly as they had been designed to do once Lyon had arrived at his destination. Instead, they opened about a quarter of the way, stopped for a beat, and then slowly opened completely. Lyon stepped into the deck, and surveyed the damage.

All around him, there was chaos. Holes and tears were ripped into the walls, stretching completely throughout the hallway. Bodies, some burned horribly, lay strewn about. Lyon began walking slowly, not taking his eyes off the scene, not allowing himself relief from the disturbing sight. This was part of his penance, he must witness this. As he walked forward steadily, images of his life came to him, as they had been since he had left his quarters. He allowed them to stay in the back of his mind, while keeping his focus on the task.

_His parents watched him as he graduated from Starfleet Academy, their faces beaming with pride as he took his first steps as a full-fledged officer of Starfleet. _

He passed by a crewman whose face was so mangled that Lyon could not tell who he was anymore. Another face lost, forgotten in a needless war.

_The argument had lasted for hours, and she had finally left, fed up with the endless discussion. She would be back, but only to repack her belongings. She was right to suspect him, he supposed. He was already married, only not to a woman, but to his ship. _

Even though he had not entered his destination, had not even approached the doors, he began to feel nauseous, as the radiation had leaked out into the entire bay by this time. It didn't matter. As long as he could stay conscious to complete his mission, nothing would matter.

_Proud of his officer, Lyon shook the young half-Romulan's hand with a grin. Turock T'Kill had been the finest officer Lyon had under his command, and he was the only man that he could even consider to become the next Captain of the U.S.S. Maximillian. _

The doors to the well-lighted armory opened as though nothing was wrong, but even as he entered, Lyon knew that was not the case. There was a green haze in the air, and he was feeling sicker and weaker by the moment. He knew he had to end this quickly.

_He still didn't know what had happened to strand him here, in 20th century Earth, in this place, but he wasn't complaining. With a cold drink and friendly conversation, he realized that for the first time in a very long time, he felt at ease with his surroundings. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, and fell asleep easily. _

He moved as quickly as his body would allow to the main console. Assessing their damage, he was pleased that most of the damage was superficial, despite its effect on closing off control to the bridge and surrounding systems. The plan would work. Tapping a panel quickly, he watched as a small bay door opened across the room. It would be a tight fit, but he could do it. He moved his hand again, and noted that he now saw two images of a hand in front of him. He shook it off, willing his body and this ship as well, to stay together for just one more minute.

_Lyon wept as though he had all the time in the world. Everything else fell away as he cursed his surroundings, the night, the day, and life itself. It felt to him as though there would be no tomorrow, and he could not bring himself to care. His only son was gone forever. _

The torpedo sat silently in the cramped tube, not hinting at its immense power. Lyon squeezed himself between the ceiling and the torpedo, wishing that he had actually stuck to a diet once in his life. Sucking in a breath, which only served to make him woozier, he rolled over, facing the inner control console on the ceiling. He overrode the console, and pulled the panel off, revealing charred, bright green wiring. Frowning, but focused, he pulled a frayed wire down, and unhinged it, pulling it apart.

_Lyon looked down at the academy, allowing himself to feel again like a parent, as he watched the android, now Lieutenant Starblade, teach a group of cadets about a transporter's function and form. Lyon had been a major role in the android's upbringing, concise as it was, and hoped that one day they would be able to work together, perhaps even on the Maximillian itself. _

It was incredibly difficult to work now. He felt the temperature rising steadily, everything was fuzzy, and it was painful to move. He swallowed, sweating profusely, and continued to pull down wires, searching for the connection that must be there somewhere…

_Lyon laughed at Blobbin, and called him a twit for what must've been the tenth time that day. On this small planet, they had taken a break from the conference, and it had resulted in a painful spray of milk from Lyon's nose as Blobbin cracked a joke. It was nice to get away from Starfleet, even if it was only for a few hours. _

There were two wires, Lyon swore there were. Both pulsing green, both waiting for the connection to each other. The bypass must have worked, and all that was left was for them to be held together. Lyon started at the wires, and begged the air for the strength for one last motion.

_Lyon stared out upon the promenade, so immensely proud of his officers. New Captain Septaric. Commander Kragnar. Lieutenant Commander Kelvok. Lieutenant Commander Tamak. Lieutenant Commander Starblade. Lieutenant Amy Armstrong Thomas. And his friends, moving towards him, Admirals T'Kill and Blobbin. No matter his past, no matter what lay before them, he knew that with the strength of his ship, the mighty Max, they would best any challenge. _

The connection was made.

A bright green light flashed on Kelvok's panel, and he awoke from his mediation, unable to hold back from being visibly startled. Unaware that he was completely out of the meditative state, Tamak started. "Captain…"

Kelvok jumped to his feet. "FIRE!"

The torpedo bay opened. From out of it soared a single blue orb of energy and power. The torpedo soared through space, out of the bowels of the _Maximillian_, and through the stars. It made a lazy turn, and began to sink. Faster and faster it dove straight down now, approaching its target, homing in.

With an incredible blast, it struck the central power core of the vessel at vast speeds. The core, as had the others when struck, instantly imploded, and then burst into a wave of flame that spread upward and downward along the connecting pillars, setting off other explosions and fires along the tunnels. This one was different, however. The central power source of the vessel was connected to all other cores, and now they were being overloaded. The redundancies had failed, and soon all over the vessel there were massive explosions. Great flames shot into space high and far, and it was not long before the incredible artificial intelligence that the ship had been programmed with went completely offline, killed as though putting a bullet through its brain.

With nothing left to command the great vessel, lights flickered, consoles powered off and on, resetting themselves over and over, and massive overloads took place throughout the infrastructure. More explosions happened, and portions of the ship were annihilated in the blasts.

The bridge crew watched, aghast and not able to even celebrate as the ship began to list, and slowly veered off towards the left of the viewscreen. Ensign Merlomo glanced at his screens, and did some quick calculations. "Captain! The vessel is going to miss entering the sun's photosphere! No impact vector!"

Hope had been lost, and now restored, as the crew finally burst into long held in cheers, and some broke down crying at the reality of how close they had come to witnessing firsthand the destruction of everything they knew. Kelvok sank into his seat, allowing one emotion to wash over him.

Relief.

Despite the immense blasts, all was silent in space. The yellow flames reflected off of the cold skin of Admiral Robert Lyon's body, which after being pulled out by the vacuum caused by the open torpedo bay door, was now floating throughout the wreckage, moving towards the sun, to disappear in a painless blaze of glory.

The destruction continued on the vessel. The last cores had erupted, and now there was massive energy feedback occurring all over. Columns were disappearing in immense fireballs, and much of the ship seemed to resemble many species version of hell. Near the impact point of the central core, all was rubble, but still relatively undamaged, the catwalks and consoles holding together. All there was, was metal and tubing and wires sparking.

And suddenly, a hand.

The hand reached out of the large pile of rubble, and grasped a piece of metal, shoving it out of the way, freeing another hand. Slowly, the two hands worked together, freeing the rest of the body. And the body stood on unsteady feet, bleeding, broken, but not finished. Not yet.

Critch Starblade was still alive.

One leg was smashed, the circuitry exposed. Useless. He did not worry about that. He pulled himself free of the wreckage, tumbling down the pile as he did so. Not taking the precious time to look around him, he hobbled towards the console, which was sparking, but still lit up. He had no idea if it was still working, but he was completely out of other ideas.

Even as he heard an explosion, easily the largest he had ever heard, behind him, he placed a hand on the console. He felt the shockwave, felt the heat burn his uniform and cause the synthetic skin on his back to blister and peel. He thought as hard as he ever had thought, concentrated on one thing, and then yelled to the stars.

"Critch to _Maximillian_…GET ME THE HELL OUT OF HERE!"

Another explosion, as big as the first, not as close though. He turned, and watched the vessel burn around him. He had no idea if the _Maximillian_ had heard his call, he didn't even know if they were still there. But it was all he could do. He watched a wave of flame spread, tall as the Max itself, and wider than two of the Sovereigns put together. He closed his eyes as it reached him, and felt a very particular feeling, yet familiar.

Was this death?

"We've got him, sir."

With those words, another cheer went up from the bridge crew. The transmission had reached the _Maximillian_ successfully, and Critch Starblade was safe. Kelvok nodded. "Good work."

He watched as the vessel tore itself apart. It had broken into three parallel pieces, moving alongside each other, and each was now completely engulfed in flame. Kelvok had ordered full shields, though he knew that was impossible, but he was working to try to raise them as high as possible. If the vessel was going to go up as he thought it would, he did not want this ship lost at the moment of their greatest triumph.

Unexpectedly, a turbolift door opened. Kelvok turned, and almost lost his composure at the sight of the android, a hole torn in his face, his leg damaged, his uniform in tatters. There were assorted gasps from the bridge crew, as Starblade nodded at Kelvok. "Don't worry; it's worse than it looks."

"Commander…"

"I need to see this, Kelvok."

Kelvok was about to say something, but then just simply nodded. He turned back to his work, as Starblade watched the screen intently.

From the middle piece of the vessel, there was a bright flash, and a blue column of light erupted. Other columns began to appear on the other pieces, and then there was a much larger light, spreading from the center of the first piece and moving outward. It was immense energy, the remainder of the power of the vessel. It moved quickly, vaporizing the defenseless pieces, and then there was another explosion, greater than the last, sending the _Maximillian_ end over end. The shockwaves buffeted the ship, causing hull failures and scars, tearing great holes through every necessary portion of the ship. The bridge crew was tossed around, some flying through the air, landing painfully on sensitive equipment.

Then, as quickly as it started…it ended. The shockwaves moved on, becoming less and less powerful with each passing moment, and then they disappeared completely, all energy expended. The debris fields were massive, dwarfing even what was left of the Borg attack at Wolf 359, encircling the sun and the surrounding areas.

Starblade blinked, and groaned from new pains attacking his body. Still alive. He slowly moved to his feet, as slow as possible. He was helped by Kelvok, who offered a hand up. Together they stood, and looked out upon the stars and the sun itself, and the pieces of vessel that now were falling into the sun. They breathed silently as more and more officers regained their composure.

It was over. After a period of days that were the most dangerous and stressful in the Federation's history, it was all over. The vessel was gone.

There was cheering on all decks where there were survivors. The mood was switched in an instant. To the sound of cheers Turock T'Kill awoke, his head pounding. Before he remembered what had happened, he thought he had a hangover. When he saw Blobbin hovering over him, he recoiled. "What the hell's going on?"

Blobbin looked slightly different, a bit paler than Turock had ever seen him. "I don't think you want to know."

On the bridge, Starblade allowed himself a smile. A sort of giddiness filled him that can only be felt by those that have had a brush with death. Grinning now, he looked around him. Glancing from side to side, his grin disappeared as quickly as it arrived. A sinking feeling enveloped him. He turned to Kelvok.

"Where's Rob?"


	24. Life

This story was originally published for the USS Maximillian.

For more information please visit maxwriters . pbwiki . com

Chapter Twenty-Four: Life

"_Amazing grace, how sweet the sound, that saved a wretch like me, I once, was lost, but now, am found, was blind, but now, I see." _

The sound of sorrowful singing once again filled the cargo bay of the U.S.S. _Maximillian_. This time, though there was still death involved, the circumstances were far different. Instead of one death, there were hundreds. And instead of a relatively complete ship to hold the mass funeral, all that was left of the mighty ship was half of its saucer section, and less than a tenth of a crew. The rest had been lost to space, or fire, or poison. As for the ship itself, what little had been not destroyed by the last blast from the vessel was ripped apart by the immense shockwave caused by incredible power fluctuations and overloads.

There was much discussion by the powers of Starfleet, their numbers thinned by the battle, over what to do about the amount of mass death. Typically, funerals of this type are held on the ships on which the crew members served, unless there are differing circumstances or arrangements, or if their heritage forbids it. Since the ship was still in one piece, albeit a smaller piece than it had started off as, it was decided that the funerals would go forward as planned. In mass, as soon as possible.

So it was, three days after the Marconian vessel was destroyed, that over three hundred caskets, many unfilled, most of them closed, sat in the cargo bay. They had been retrofitted into makeshift torpedoes, as had become tradition in the Federation. Whether in body or spirit, all would be committed to the stars.

The singing went on, the classic song that accompanied these events for centuries serving as a somber backdrop for the horrible coda to the brief war. It had claimed a new Captain, and even beyond Squid Tai' Septaric and the multitudes of crew that had joined her in the great beyond, the war had claimed an Admiral, the highest ranked Admiral in the history of the Federation thus far. The torpedo that bore his name sat as silent and unadorned as any of the others, blending in amongst the hundreds of similar torpedoes that lay on the ground, ready for their final duty.

The onlookers filed past Admiral Lyon's coffin, some with tears, some saluting, some silently shuffling past, but all doing so with respect. No matter what his past had created, no matter what the outcome of his actions had been, he had more than made up for any wrongdoing. The great Admiral would be remembered, his legacy carrying forward with the legends.

The onlookers moved on, now moving to a safe location. The quiet executor of the task watched and waited patiently as the sad group reached their destinations, behind red and yellow lines marked off hours before. With a nod, he gave an order, and force fields were raised, shielding was lowered, and one by one the coffins began to be fired into space, in no particular destinations, only that they move on to the stars.

After many had moved past, it was Admiral Lyon's turn. His name read aloud, and commanding more attention than most, his coffin was fired. Later it was said that his torpedo, empty though it was, seemed to veer off of its programmed trajectory, and aim, like the vessel before it, directly for the sun. Then, in a blaze of glory, the torpedo went out like Lyon himself, in a glorious spectacle. None could possibly confirm this, but it did comfort those that chose to believe.

The final coffin fired, and the bay returned to normal. As the crowds dispersed, many stayed to gaze out upon the stars, as though they could still see their loved ones and friends. It would be hours before the last pair moved on, one moving slowly, and the other pudging alongside him.

The lights were dimmed, and the only light came in through the window from the stars, silent and unmoving. A figure sat in front of the window, his body illuminated with the soft light. He stared at the stationary objects unblinking, his mind blank. For all he cared right now he could just sit there forever in an endless staring contest. For all Starblade knew, the stars would go out long before he would cease to function.

The victory had been great, yet at the same time he felt the loss. He felt ashamed, for the loss he felt was not primarily on the death of his friends, of Lyon and Thomas, but instead of that any hope of answering the endless questions he had was now lost in the burning debris of the vessel, scattered throughout the galaxy.

He wanted to know more of his people, more about the different factions that had sent him on this needless quest in the first place, and his counterpart along with him. Would they try again? Would the comparatively fledgling Federation even have a chance against a more dedicated force?

There were deeper questions, ones that troubled him to his very core. He knew he dare not even acknowledge them at this stage. More than any time in the past few weeks, he was afraid. Afraid of the future, and afraid of himself.

His brooding, seemingly inherited from Admiral Lyon, was interrupted by a sharp ring, announcing someone wanting inside. He pressed a button, not trusting himself enough to speak at this point, and the door slid open, revealing Captain Kelvok.

"Greetings, Commander." Kelvok nodded warmly towards the android, who returned the nod, but only slightly.

"Rank'll probably change. May have already." Starblade turned back towards the window.

"I will not deny that there are those that believe you should be demoted for your actions. Others believe that you should be promoted. A compromise has been entered on your behalf. Your promotion to Commander will go forward. A demotion back to Lieutenant Commander will follow. The rest is up to you."

"Thanks." The last thing Starblade cared about right now was his rank. He wasn't even sure if he would remain in Starfleet.

"I did not see you at the funeral." Despite his friend's reluctance at having a conversation, Kelvok would not give up. He knew that most of all right now the android needed someone to talk to.

"Not really my thing. Don't think that anyone really needed to see me like this, don't you think?" Starblade drew nearer to Kelvok, revealing his bloodied face. While the nano-machines existing within his body were working to repair the damage, too short a time had passed to have much damage repaired. The hole still remained, but instead of being to see straight through his head, there were lines of matter and skin constructed within the hole, resulting in a spider-web-like effect that would only serve to disgust people even more than the initial hole would have.

If this bothered Kelvok, he did not show it. "A bandage would have sufficed. Regardless, your absence was felt."

"My presence may have caused it, in case you don't remember."

"Regardless of the reason you were sent here, Critch, you are not responsible for it. All that you are responsible for are your actions, and here they have been well above satisfactory."

Starblade sighed. He had not told anyone the real reason why he had been sent to this universe, nor had he told them who he truly was. Regardless of whether or not it would have made a difference, he preferred to keep that information close for now. He didn't want to give any more people an excuse to not trust him. Admiral T'Kill was already on the warpath; at least he assumed he would be. Instead, the information that he gave was that Critch Starblade was only intended to be a spy, nothing more, in advance of the coming invasion. His memory lost in the destruction of his vessel, and with no actual crimes committed, there could be no trials or accusations. He was clear of any wrongdoing, so far as they knew. He preferred to keep it that way. Finishing his sigh, he spoke. "If you say so. I still come from the wrong side, Kelvok, and we're going to have to deal with that when the time comes."

Kelvok shook his head. "Critch, on this ship, practically everyone has been on the wrong side at one time or another. Admiral T'Kill is half-Romulan. And while I am loathe to admit it, so am I."

Starblade's mouth dropped. "Kelvok…"

"That is classified information. You know. The Admirals know. And that's where it will stay."

Starblade nodded silently.

"In case you were wondering, my Captaincy has been approved on a permanent basis. While it would be understandable if you needed to take a leave of absence, know that the _Maximillian_, as long as it is under my command, will be here waiting for you."

"I appreciate that, Kelvok. Excuse me, Captain." Starblade stood, still preferring to be alone. Kelvok knew this, shook the android's hand, and moved to leave.

"Do not forget, Commander, that where you came from scarcely matters. Instead focus on who you are now, and the rest will follow."

"That's fine for you, Kelvok. You know who you are. I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now. And you know what scares me, terrifies me the most? If they come back, and if there's a war…Which side will I be on?"

The hallway of the _Maximillian_ was empty, save for the two Admirals. They moved slowly, as though carrying great weights along with them. Admiral Turock T'Kill looked and felt like he had gained ten years in the past few days, and although Admiral Blobbin's look had not changed at all, his characteristic smile was absent, and his head was hanging down.

They had made it through the funeral, Turock actually giving a heartfelt speech which Blobbin couldn't bring himself to crack against, and now they were traipsing through the bowels of the mighty ship, at least what was left of it, with no particular destination in mind. They passed the now empty rooms, many calling to mind various memories. They did not speak about them, instead shuffling and pudging past in silence, together, but alone in their thoughts.

For Blobbin, he was building up…something. At this point he couldn't tell which. Whether it was a epic rant that would last for hours about the pure stupidity of their lost friend, or a vast shell of lunacy, similar enough that most people wouldn't be able to tell the difference from his usual self, he wasn't sure yet. He felt it coming though. He hoped Turock was there to either experience it or be the person the lunacy was directed towards.

For T'Kill himself, Lyon's death felt like he had died himself. As long as Turock had been in the fleet, he had followed in the footsteps of his commanding officer. Lyon had been his first friend when so many had questioned his abilities. No-one else would trust someone so open about their Romulan heritage, despite his also being half-human. Lyon was the sole reason that T'Kill had made it as far as he did, even into the Admiralty, and now he would take his place as commissioner of this Vessel.

Now all that was over. There would be no more arguments, discussions, even friendly wagers on an old football game. Now it was just him and Blobbin. Lyon's death reminded him of his own mortality. Would he too be able to go out a hero, despite all evidence to the contrary? Or would he merely fade away? He hated these selfish thoughts; he hated being reminded of this topic. He needed the subject to change, and for once Blobbin was being no help at all at this. Knowing that the situation had to be diffused, he turned to his mercury-based friend, muttering, "I can't believe he shot me."

Blobbin allowed a smirk. "I kinda thought he would've put it at a higher setting, just to see you twitch."

"Ha. Surprised he didn't fire on you too, since it seemed to be a good day to shoot at friends."

"Who's to say he didn't? Phasers just bounce off me, ya' know. I'm invincible!" Blobbin, forgetting the sorrow momentarily, and raised his hands in triumph.

"Or maybe they'd just melt you. Then I'd have to lug you around in a bucket."

"And oh the fun that'd be, following you around everywhere. Oh, let's watch this 200 year old football game! Let's watch these old automobiles drive in a circle!"

"Better than a bunch of guys jogging around in a field for a couple hours and getting nothing done." Turock sighed heavily, the sad weight still crushing down on him. "I need a drink."

"Not a bad idea."

"Check that. I need a lot of drinks."

"Well, good luck on that, I don't think the battle bar exists anymore."

Turock shook his head. "I guess the starbase might have synthahol…I hate that stuff."

"Maybe…" Blobbin grew silent as he thought he heard music coming from a room nearby. Perking up his head, a Vulcan ear grew from the right side, and soon was larger than his head itself. "Hark!"

"Hark?" Turock questioned as Blobbin quickly pudged off. "What the…"

"Shhhh!" A foam-shaped number one finger rose to Blobbin's mouth. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" The pair grew silent as they concentrated. Together, they moved to the source of the music.

"Tropical." Turock stopped outside the door where the music was coming from. "That's tropical music."

"Aye." Blobbin appraised the smoke-stained door. "It's a holodeck."

"I thought they were all damaged?"

"Looks like they were able to get one back online…Strange thing to get working again at this point…" He tapped at the panel. "Program 's stuck. Hope it's a pub." He prodded the door, and it shushed open.

Inside, they saw sand. And lawn chairs. They saw drinks with umbrellas and a familiar face reclining. Without saying a word, they entered the holodeck, for once anticipating the future, even if it was the immediate variety. The door closed behind them.

Except for the music drifting out of the one remaining functional holodeck on the ship, all was quiet, the Mighty Max taking a well deserved rest from the hell it had encountered. But for better or for worse, like its crew, it had survived. The ship would be rebuilt, better, incorporating as much of the new technologies as it could. The _Maximillian_ would rise again.

Throughout the ship, throughout the space dock and the planets and the stars around them, everyone could feel it. Hope, the fleeting emotion that had so often been tarnished and forgotten in the past few weeks, had returned. The Federation would continue to live and expand, strong and proud.

_**And the adventure would continue…**_


End file.
